Hook: Maggie Returns
by Skirtzzz
Summary: Twenty years have passed, and the Banning family has long forgotten their adventures in Neverland. However, things are about to get interesting when the short fused and foul mouthed Maggie rediscovers the fantastic place she had visited once, long ago. Her rocky run-ins with the infamous Hook take an amorous turn, one awkward encounter at a time. (sexual content/strong language)
1. Chapter 1

_"You have been gone for so long...Do you remember?"_

_"...A little."_

_"They want you back, Maggie. They're coming."_

_"Who?"_

Maggie sat for a moment, waiting. No response. "That's all I remember."

The woman across from her stared momentarily, adjusted her glasses, and spoke. "- and you're having this dream regularly?"

"Yes. Every week or so?"

"So, who do you suppose the voice belongs to?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Maggie scrunched her nose quickly. "It's not a threatening voice or anything. It's almost...calming. Though, she does sound afraid. Worried. It's frustrating. I have no idea what it means."

It had been twenty years since Maggie spent that very memorable Christmas with Grandma Wendy. The one where she got many of her stories. Always ready to deliver them when the necessary ears came looking. Or not. In any case, she was ready to fire away to anybody who would give them a listen. Sometimes she would quietly tell them to herself when she would become lost in thought, losing precious minutes of sleep in those late night hours. She played them out so regularly, that they became commonplace when she needed a jolt of inspiration. With such familiarization came a time when she completely forgot about her adventures. She had grown up. Though, most memories lose their purchase on the mind's foreground, but after all this time, these stories in particular had been so well watered, that they grew in her head without her knowledge. Never to be lost. It came to her in bouts of nostalgia. With smells and sounds. Jolts of recollection that would make her stop and wonder, but she never knew why.

The subconscious act played out well enough as Maggie grew older. Some people know they aren't necessarily alone in this universe, be it a God, an ancient alien race, or perhaps just another realm somewhere nearby. For her, this was absolutely the case. With no idea what exactly it was, Maggie did harbor beliefs that such a thing was true. The everyday human experience: living, breathing, dying, what have you- was not the end all be all in her opinion. There was a great and intriguing mystery to the world, she was convinced. Though, why it was so obvious to her, she wasn't entirely sure. Either way, this odd gut feeling was a comfort. A silent reassurance at best.

"So, apart from the odd dream, everything else is okay?" Rosie, Maggie's therapist, craned her neck, smiling apologetically.

Maggie sat quietly for a moment before answering, "Yea, things are okay." She cleared her throat.

"You've been doing okay without the medication?"

Maggie had recently weaned herself off her forty milligram dosages. She had a bout of depression that was more or less at a standstill. She opted out of continuing the meds and decided to see how it'd go without them. Unbeknownst to anybody, she immediately jumped back into drinking. Something she had brought to a halt after her stint in the hospital the year before. However, this is something she didn't share with anybody. They all believed she was done with all of that. It was a guilty truth she kept, but something she was sure she could get over...in due time. She hoped.

"Yea, I feel a lot better without it. Less 'floaty'." Maggie put her hands up to her head, hovering on the sides. She often described the effects of her depression, aided with the antidepressants, to turn her head into a balloon. There was a feeling of lightness. A feeling of being simply false. Unreal.

"You look tired. More tired than the last few weeks. Have you been getting much sleep?"

"Honestly? Nope. Not nearly as much as I'd like. It's been one or two hours here, a couple more in the morning. Scattered. Frankly, I'm exhausted. I haven't been able to turn my brain off once the sun goes down." Looking down, Maggie grabbed at her purse straps, then haphazardly picked the bag up and plopped it on her lap. "My mom calls a lot. She's a little lonely. I don't think she will ever get used to us being out of the house. It's been so long now, though." She played with the zipper pull. "I wish for her sake that Dads workload was less, but no matter what, he goes in head first anyway. He loves what he does, but even without the nagging cell phone and clients, he still works himself to the bone. Some things just never change."

Peter had quit the firm, leaving the life of lawyering far behind. He was never able to recall what so drastically changed his mind all those years ago, but he knew leaving was the right thing to do and he eventually discovered his passion was the same as the late Wendy Darling. He had admired her work so much, that after she passed away, he began helping children in the system find caring homes. He had opened offices around the country, and in turn, had to move his family all over to keep up with the newer facilities.

Looking out the window, Maggie saw the sun was trying to pry itself out from behind some mildly unenthusiastic clouds. "Though, mom is keeping busy. Finally unpacked everything at the new house." Maggie grinned.

Rosie glanced at her watch, then smiled at Maggie again before standing up. "Shoot- that's it for today. Good talk. Yea? I think we're headed in the right direction. Are we on for another next week?" She straightened her suit a bit and walked over to her desk.

Maggie quickly got up, pushing her bag up to her shoulder, the jingling of change audible. "Fo sho-Ro." Maggie smirked.

"You're corny. Get out of here! I'll see you on the 25th. Go catch those last rays of sunshine before they die out." Rosie laughed.

"Ah yes, the brilliant warmth of Seattle in December! The Holiday cheer of it all!" Maggie enthusiastically strode to the door. "Have a good one!"

Through the office door, and down the hall. That smell of paperwork checklists, plastic bottles, incredible amounts of sanitizer, and what could very well be the stench of human nervousness. To describe it is always strange. Maggie knew it well, however. It's often illustrated best with bits of nostalgia. Doctors of all sorts resided in places with such a smell. It reminded her of numerous things.

_Three cavities fifteen years ago. They gave her that purple toothbrush._

_Jacks broken arm. He told her about some baseball guy by the name of Martinez while he itched around his cast._

_College party, 2008, alcohol poisoning._

_Maggie never forgot the look on her mother's face. "You almost killed yourself!"_

_2010, the year she did in fact try to do just that. Waking up in a lightly sunlit room, an aqua vase sat nearby, various flowers huddled inside. The blinds were white and dusty._

_She wanted to clean them. That room drove her mad._

_That smell. The dust on the blinds._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Growing up sucks", as Maggie so eloquently put it from time to time. She would describe it as a car picking up speed and never slowing down. From 5 mph, and crawling to 150. You watch out the windows as things zip by, suddenly in the rearview mirror, and quickly blurring. You can observe for those brief moments that something is in front of you, but time doesn't slow. It doesn't stop. It simply passes. Even when you feel you're as solid and grounded to the 'now' as possible, marinating in the days as thoroughly as you can. You'll always end up looking back at a strange pile of memories.

It's terrifying how fleeting the days are. You can sit and hold on for dear life. Break the arms of a chair from the grip. Never let go. Watch each minute on the clock. Devour each second carefully. Conscious. Aware. Though, the truth is, you'll still fall asleep, wake up, and be in a totally different world before you know it. That scene in the chair now faint and strange. You may even forget that it had even happened.

_"I can't believe that girl was me._" Maggie thought to herself, clutching the steering wheel of her delightfully shitty Honda Hatchback. She often resorted to auto pilot when driving. Her brain was a machine of constant memories and daydreams. The subconscious thought that would pop into her mind the most was the simple fact she had somehow become this twenty six year old woman. It was undeniably surreal.

Sure, she had memories of a young girl who once played with her brother for hours on end in the backyard, the summer sun beating down and reddening their small noses.

Sure, she recalled times of an awkward, blemished chin teenager making her way up and down the halls of an old, crowded, musky smelling high school.

Sure, she remembered those first weeks of college, sleepless nights, and endless experiences she knew she'd perhaps regret the next day.

Whoever those girls were though, they sure didn't feel like her. These other Maggie's had all contributed to the culmination of what she was today. Though, as far as she was concerned, she was just some android that had recently been booted up, and given these memories. Sometimes she so vividly remembered things, yet they were strangely unfamiliar at times.

Maggie had slowed to a stop at a red light, and matching her at the crosswalk line was a young man in a red F 150. Bro shades, an obnoxiously neon sleeveless shirt, and a sun bleached head of hair. He did a double take in her direction.

"This guy..." she mumbled. Now, Maggie isn't necessarily one to judge, but when the stranger looked her dead in the eye and smooched up at the air, she audibly gawked. He rolled the window down. _Shit, my window is already down. Here we go._

"Lovin' the hair!" No reply came to her in time. "Do hippies give good head?"

H_ippie? As ignorant as he looks. Precious._

The light turned green. Maggie let off the brake, "I'd give you a kiss but your mouth looks like a cat's butt hole!" She sped up and took a left instead of heading straight through. Now on a quiet suburb road, she aimlessly drove around looking for a way to turn around. "A cat's butt hole..." She sighed. "What does that even mean." Her heart was slowing down finally. Face flush. Maggie was notoriously easy to fluster, and her comebacks were usually less than impressive. She hated to say nothing, however.

Something lit up by her hand. "Gas. Daaaammit." The light had come on, alerting her. Her robotic instincts sent her on a new side quest. A side quest that was going to cost her more than she'd like to bother spending. "I've got five bucks cash, you jag off. That's all you get." She patted the dash like it was some big dumb animal. A block away she saw a spinning seashell insignia with the light blue backdrop of sky. "Gas ahoy." Maggie cranked her music down as she rolled into the number seven pump, grabbed her wallet, and made her way into the small building.

Naturally, she weaved down the tight aisles to the fridges on the back walls. _Oh no...no no._ She didn't mean to, she had yet to disconnect these habits. The wine section. _Just those tiny personal cartons, as per usual. Not a problem_. Her eyes darted up, down, ah! "Riesling for the win." An alcoholic with classy taste, she liked to think.

I_t's cute and sweet. _

_It's also a crutch._

"Whatever." Her inner arguments weren't uncommon, and her physical reactions trumped that quiet voice that kindly asked for her to go with the giant can of tea for a dollar instead. She placed the little boxes on the counter and readied her ID. "Five cash on seven and I've got debit for the drinks." Even she knew her priorities were all kinds of screwed up. The guilt of swiping that card stung. How did she manage to justify this to herself every time? That was the frustrating part.

She plopped back into the car after filling up, and sat for a moment. "Fifteen bucks for this fucking wine. Five bucks for gas. Maggie, you're an idiot. Congratulations." Her throat tightened up and she inhaled painfully. She shook the sudden sadness and started the car up. _Don't think about it. Just get home._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Back at the apartment, Maggie took her drinks out of the plastic 'thank you!' bag and made her way into the small, fluorescent lit kitchen. Her counters were fairly empty, even though she would prefer to decorate more thoroughly if the funds allowed it. The most standout piece she could be proud of was an antique wooden bowl full of potpourri that had long since lost any hint of the apple spice scent it once gave off. At least it was something.

Maggie opened the fridge and placed two of the three wine cartons inside. As she closed the door, a pizza coupon sheet flapped near her face, making her hair pat her brow ever so slightly. _Food. That might have to wait until tomorrow_. She pushed the magnet holding the flyer further left and out of the way, turned around, and twisted off the little plastic cap on her Riesling.

Padding quietly into the clean, but empty living room, she collapsed into her dilapidated old papasan chair. It shifted under her slightly. She let out a big sigh and took a swig, one arm lazily hanging out over the cushion. Her view from the glass sliding doors wasn't all bad. She was on the third floor and had several treed areas and a quaint walking trail to look out at.

The TV that sat several feet away had a good coating of dust on it as she rarely bothered to turn it on. She didn't care much for the quiet buzz it made, and the small handful of news and home shopping channels always left much to be desired. It was just noise. There was something more calming about the unmoving scenery below. The view from the this spot often sufficed for taking her mind off things.

The sun was on its way down. The sky turned a rich blood red and faded out into a warm navy blue. A few stars became visible, one in particular twinkling strongly. She looked at the scene before her as if hypnotized. She automatically took another drink and continued to stare. On the walking path below she saw something moving. Perhaps the usual dog walker or jogger. It was getting too dark to tell. She observed a bit more, curious to confirm the obvious, but she was surprised to see that neither the familiar movements of a jolly canine or the bounce of a health conscious neighbor registered. This was indeed different.

Her phone began to vibrate, muffled within her purse. Her concentration on the trail was broken and she pushed herself out of the comfy chair.

"Hey momma, what's shakin?" Not a surprise. Mom called throughout the week regularly. Some days are quick check-ins, others are long, sometimes repetitive conversations.

"Maggie! Hello my darling. Just thought I'd see how today went."

"It was the usual. Rosie and I had a decent chat."

Rosie had been Maggie's therapist for the last five months. She met her through a social worker at the hospital. A wonderful recommendation, for sure. Maggie had made it clear that she wanted to actually discuss things with somebody rather than talk at them, and Rosie fit the bill. She had talked her down from a lot of rather frustrating times, but even so, Maggie was one to hang onto bad habits and ways of thinking. That definitely brought on bouts of palpable guilt. Looking Rosie in the eyes and blatantly lying about not having touched a drink in weeks, when she was hung over just that morning, was an absolutely dreadful thing. _"I don't usually lie to her, but cold turkey won't work...just takes time." _Maggie would mentally repeat this to herself after her sessions. _"It's helping. It is."_ More of her usual inner monologue to argue with herself about.

"Yea, I mean, we talked about the dreams today."

"You still have them?"

"Yea, no idea what any of it means but it's probably just weird junk due to my crappy sleep schedule. Anyway, Rosie prefers to cover the more serious issues most days." Instantly regretting having said that, Maggie knew it would surely prompt her mother to ask about-

"The drinking?"

Maggie paused.

"You haven't been drinking, right?" Her mother sounded painfully hopeful.

She glanced at the almost empty carton on the carpet, "Mmhm. One year clean." Her stomach sank a little.

"Sweetheart, I'm just incredibly proud of you. You're getting help and you're following through! You've come so far since last winter. It's just wonderful!"

Maggie laughed quietly, her eyes still darting to the same place on the floor.

_I'm a horrible daughter._

"So, how have you been?" She changed the subject.

"Oh! Goodness! Absolutely busy! I've been preparing for the family to come visit this Christmas. Jack, Rene, and the kids will be up early again. They'll be spending the week here."

Fucking Rene.

Rene Shingleson was Jacks first and only girlfriend. Rene Shingleson was eighteen when she first came to dinner at their home and insulted her mother's cooking nonchalantly. Rene Shingleson was a screamer and made sure the whole house knew it. Rene Shingleson made fun of Maggie's favorite book, the one that Grandma Wendy had given to her before she passed. Rene Shingleson was a raging thunder cunt.

"Gross."

"Maggie, we have to move past the bad memories eventually. They've been married for four years now. They've made a beautiful family. She's not nearly as bad as she used to be!"

"It was a trap. She poked holes in the condoms so he couldn't get away, mom. She's Satan."

"Oh, you don't know that!"

"Jack was interested in that chick who worked at the orphanage program with dad, remember? The cute one. The sane, cute one. I think Rene found out and killed her or something. What happened to her?"

"Ohh, Maggie! She moved! Plus, your brother, well, we should just respect his decisions."

"Whatever, It's fucking bullshit. Eleven years. How and why? He's an idiot."

Her mother always got quiet when Rene and Jack's relationship came up. More-so when Maggie went on her colorful rants. It was one of those topics the family agreed on behind closed doors, but would never dare say it to Jack's face. _"Hey, your wife is the bane of this families existence."_ There was never a good time to drop that bomb on him. It was far too late for that. He acted so blissfully ignorant about it anyway. In his eyes, Rene could do no wrong.

"Something about Jack. He was always so easy to just...forget people. Remember how close we were before? Then Rene shows up and it's like he's some totally different person. He did that before! What was it? Dammit." Maggie searched her mind.

_...makes you forget...don't forget! Mommy and Daddy!_

"I can't remember. Some shit with dad. Pisses me off though. I swear, he doesn't even love us. He called me what, two years ago?"

Her mother sighed into the phone, "Maggie, please. This always gives me a headache."

"Alright alright, I'm sorry. Seriously. We'll put on our happy faces and power through it. I'm going to be there, so we'll have a blast on our own. It'll be really great to hang out with you again. Can we just eat all week and be lazy? Please?" Maggie laughed, feeling horrible behind her forced cheer.

"That can be arranged, m'dear! I'll expect you late in the evening on the 25th then?"

"Uh- yea! You betcha." Maggie replied with some reluctance.

"Fantastic! I miss you terribly, my love! Call before you head out!" Maggie loved when her mother spoke so pleasantly, it almost made her miss living at home where she could hear it more often. Her mother's voice was like a ray of warm sunlight. If she didn't have her caring so much to call, Maggie was unsure how much worse off she would be. Nobody else bothered to give her a jingle. In fact, she only heard updates on the family through her mother. As far as Maggie could tell, Jack had forgotten about her. Maggie, 'Royal Fuckup' of the family.

The conversation with her mother ended shortly after, and on a happy note, thankfully. Moira never seemed to catch onto Maggie's incredible reluctance to be with them, or was just in denial about it. Either way, it was out of the way for now.

"Merry Christmas, ya'll." She mumbled.

Maggie promptly finished off her drink and proceed to work on a second one, cold from the fridge and begging to be consumed. She felt a giddy rush of anticipation work its way through her core from the alcohol. Her favorite feeling. It was like a cozy wave, beckoning her to take off into another realm. She glossed over the drink label, "13%, gettin' shit done." She snorted softly and went back to her chair. By this time the sun's rays were a faint sliver on the horizon and the trees outside were eerie silhouettes in the dark. Maggie wanted to sink away. She proceeded to execute her usual escape route the only way she knew how, and by the time the clock read ten she had finished off the third and final drink.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The crash from the bedroom woke her up. Maggie's head lulled forward before snapping up. Momentarily, she wasn't sure where she was. _The living room, right_. She hadn't been sleeping long. The red glow on the horizon was still faintly visible, though, the room had grown quite dark. Her head was swimming. She was most certainly drunk. It became obvious when she pushed herself forward and out of the chair. Her upper body stood erect for mere seconds before her knees buckled and she fell to the floor.

Disoriented, Maggie paused there, holding herself on all fours. "Fuck..." She mumbled. She looked up and saw her reflection groggily staring back at her through the dusty TV screen. She heard the sprinkling of glass down the hall. Her alertness perked up. "The hell." She carefully got to her feet and steadied herself, palm to the wall. Her legs felt like busy ant hills. Minute tingling ran throughout the tips of her toes all the way up her thighs. Removing her hand from the wall, she swayed. _Easy does it. _

Down the hall Maggie went, squinting to make out what was ahead. Nothing but the dark opening of her bedroom. Her concentration was spotty. She turned off at the restroom with a new set of thoughts, forgetting about her foggy investigation. She flipped the light on and hissed. Her eyes reacted to the sudden burst of illumination and she slammed her lids shut, grimacing. Her head swung down and she waited until her eyes adjusted accordingly. Once she could see the bathroom in full, she greeted her reflection once more, this time in the medicine cabinet mirror. She grabbed it from the bottom and pulled it open. Inside there were a few half empty orange bottles, some over the counter remedies, and various other oddities. _Bacon band aids_. She went for the aspirin. _Bad Idea, Skipper_.

She could feel the faint thudding in her head, a forewarning of the soon to be headache. _You forgot to eat, dip shit. _Nothing she could do about it now. Quick fix. After the slew of crappy decisions that day, taking some aspirin on an empty stomach, post sweet berry binge, didn't seem like that big of a deal. Maggie's common sense had taken a back seat three cartons of wine ago. She just wanted the headache to stop.

Maggie shook out a couple white pills into her palm, pulled up on the sink nozzle, and awkwardly twisted her head beneath the flow of water. She swallowed, ran the back of her hand across her mouth, and slammed the cabinet shut. The mirror reverberated slightly, and she caught a final look at herself, water dripping from her reddened chin. "Yikes. Hi creepy."

She exhaled and shifted her attention to the other half of the bathroom. Looking at the toilet now, she debated if she wanted to extend her visit, but there was a thud, yet again, from the bedroom. "Fuckin', what even..." She wobbled to the hallway. With the extra light source from the bathroom, she could now see a few familiar shapes in her room. The bed, the dresser. The usual. She walked further down and poked her head in the doorway. Everything looked in place until she saw the window.

"Whaaaat...?" She gasped. It was completely smashed in. Shards were scattered about, some had even managed to make it as far as her bed. She assumed she'd see a rock, a brick, a baseball. Something. No malicious signals had gone off in her. She was on the third floor, after all. No balcony, no drain pipe, no trees close enough. Had to be shenanigans. Testosterone fueled teenage hi-jinks.

Overwhelmed with dizziness, Maggie stumbled to the bed. She grabbed a side of her comforter and flipped it up. The glass fragments sparkled as they took flight, and tumbled off into the carpet a few feet away. They tinkled softly as they landed. She plopped down on the bed, thinking about how she'd have to report the broken window to the office when she was up and around. They were an unsavory sort. She wasn't looking forward to telling them the bad-

_What was that._

Outside. Below. Sounded like an animal. A groan. From a person? Her imagination took off in a crazed drunken spiral of imagery. She managed to get to her feet fairly fast this time and headed towards the window. She sloppily tiptoed around what glass she could see. As far as she could tell she avoided any injuries, though her feet always got fairly numb when she had been drinking. _I'll know in the morning, I guess_.

She craned her neck out the window and looked down. The bushes below were dark spots, unmoving. She studied the scene a moment longer, before her eyes came back to what remained of the recently deceased window. She yelped when she saw the blood. It wasn't much, but she checked herself with lightning speed. Palms up. Clear. Flipped her hands over. Clear. Arms. Clear. "S'not me..." She wiped her neck for good measure. Nothing. Her panic strayed momentarily, grasping to make sense of it. Who's blood was that?

_A bird. I bet it was a bird. Crashed through the window. _

Her mind simply refused to enter 'break-in' territory. The thought of somebody coming into her room made her nauseous. She pushed the idea back.

_Grandma Wendy's house. The sound of that creaky window latch echoed in her head. The nightlights flickering. _

She gave a final shove and the faint memory crawled back into the depths of her mind once more. She scanned the floor for a dead bird this time. She had to find something eventually. She kept her head down, still looking. That's when the pill took effect. Her head no longer echoed of a headache. No. Her head felt much of nothing now. Floating. She was dizzy again. Her limbs number than before.

_ Should have taken just one...not two. I'm okay. I'll be okay. I think. Totally not dying. Of course I'm dizzy. It's just a little blood thinning. What does a little mean? Maybe any is bad. How drunk am I? How bad could this be? How does stomach bleeding work...or ulcers? Oh my God. I've done this before. I'm fine. Oh my God. What if I'm not fine._

The hot whip of fear sped through her throat down to her gut in mere seconds. She was panicking. She stood up straight. Too quick. She stumbled forward, smashing her hip into the dresser. She would have screamed but the pain didn't have time to register. She hit the floor. A rumbling from above. Her bed side lamp. It fought gravity in small circles. The circles grew as it picked up momentum.

Tipping.

Tipping.

Maggie had only a short moment to comprehend her current position before a sudden white light lit up the backs of her eyes and pulled her into a heavy darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A dimly lit, sea foam green room surrounded her. She lie upon a firm cushion mattress.

That smell.

There it was again.

A hospital.

Maggie lifted her chin to look up, the sound of the disposable pillow case scrunching softly near her ears. She saw the tube lights in the ceiling flickering at random. Then, looking down past her feet, she saw her toes were a cold purple. She wiggled them a bit. Freezing. As she exhaled with a quiet '_brrr' _she saw hints of her own breath. _Damn, why is it so cold in here?_ Looking past her chilled digits, she saw the door to her room was wide open. The fluorescent lighting faded gradually down the long empty hallway. There wasn't any staff bustling about out there at all, which seemed odd.

_Why am I here...why am I here. _

The vivid room brought her right back in an instant. She was so sick before. So delirious. This was enough to make her rethink everything that had happened after she checked out. Perhaps she dreamt it all. Like when she'd see herself getting up, dressing, and leaving for work, but waking up moments later, still in bed. Maggie was overwhelmed with disappointment. She was still there. This was a place she had worked hard to forget, though here she was. It was so strangely familiar, yet strangely different. Was this the same room?

She observed more of her surroundings and saw a completely out of place picture. It was grandly framed, and the portrait which was showcased seemed to be gazing at her. A period piece of some sort. A roguish man was calmly seated in it. Then the details had begun to blur. The figure was an out of focus blob of muted colors now. It was vanishing. Before she could register much else, the oil the painting was made up of began to bleed inwards, ominously fading out, until the canvas was nothing more than a blank, yellowed surface. Taking it in seemed too complicated to bother with. She lie a moment longer, her brain mush.

Maggie sluggishly rolled to one side and pushed up into a sitting position. An IV in her arm tugged slightly. Surprised to see it there, she removed it hesitantly, heart beginning to pound. She tried to calm down. "_Maybe there's a way to turn up the heat in here. I can look for a call button too..._" She thought.

Maggie was never sure when to trust her surroundings anymore. After the bizarre ways her sick mind could so easily trick her, she had pretty much given up trying to make sense of reality. Hand in hand, the medications she used to take sometimes sent her into surreal realms as well. When she first started taking her antidepressants the previous year, she remembered getting lost downtown somehow. She had come-to in the middle of a busy sidewalk. Standing there in utter confusion. She went up and down the streets for hours. Not walking, but floating. She saw it all go by in a daze. Every pair of eyes she met made her feel more and more scared. They knew. Didn't they? They knew she was completely lost. Mentally. Physically. They could see it in her eyes. She couldn't even speak. She struggled to read street signs. Building fronts repeated. Magazine racks blurred together, the faces printed on them smiling at her. They stared. They saw it too. Her brain had just stopped working. Reality bled out. Everything was spiraling into silent chaos, but her physical body was weak. Exhausted. Her mind frozen in place, petrified and delirious. The worst part was forgetting how she had gotten there. Had she driven? Was she with somebody? What did her car look like again? _Call mom, call mom, call mom._

Her memories whispered in her ears. So many of them, struggling for attention. Maggie shooed them away, trying to concentrate. For all she knew, this moment was reality. Though, the disappearing painting kept replaying in her mind. It was too weird to be real. "_They've got me on something. Just some side effects. A hallucination." _

Maggie slowly placed her feet to the cold linoleum floor. As she began to stand she saw the aqua vase. The various flowers were wilted. Dead. She looked away quickly, feeling unsettled. A sinking feeling swept through her. _Don't look at them._ As if they were some insidious apparition, haunting her.

Now up, she started to walk along the wall, looking for a thermostat. Her bare feet slapped the floor. _Slap slap. _She stopped, for the next step she took was quiet. She felt something soft and slippery beneath her feet. Looking down, she saw it was a fine white powder, lightly covering the floor where she stood. Following the base of the wall up, her eyes landed on a dark green chalkboard, hung securely. Upon it, scrawled in a romantic cursive, it read, "_Why parents __hate__ their children." _A crude line scraped beneath the word 'hate'_. _Various paperwork was sloppily tapped to the board as well. Doctors notes, prescription slips, and stuffed into the middle of it all was an old photo of her and her family.

_Never forget, mommy and daddy_.

_Run home._

The jumbled chalk board was a confusing mess of nostalgia. From the depths of her childhood to her declining adulthood. She backed away from it.

_What is this?_

White footprints trailed from her as she went. Maggie was near the doorway now. She stepped out of the room and found herself squinting as she gazed down the hall. No end in sight.

_Call button. Keep looking._

Turning to return to her room and continue the search, she was greeted with a white wall. Maggie gasped. Left, right. She looked. The doorway to her room had completely vanished.

_Fuck. _

She swung around again. In fact, now there were no doors. Either side of the hall was a continuous white wall, lined with cold blue plastic at the base. Every few yards there were more blank, yellowed canvases eerily hung inside of frames.

Standing frozen, Maggie weighed her options. Where else was there to go now? _Down there_. _Nope nope nope... _She put a shaky leg forward, still feeling a coating of chalk dust along the bottom of her foot. Picking up momentum, she began to speed walk with her arms lifted up, and crossed tightly across her chest. She didn't dare cry out for somebody. It was far too quiet, and the sound of her own walking made her uneasy.

A mysterious cold breeze pushed past Maggie, prompting her to turn, curiously. She witnessed the lights dimming from the dead end she had just left behind. One by one they went out. The strange breeze picked up again, rustling her hospital gown. As the shadows grew nearer, the floor tiles seemed to morph in the freshly fallen darkness. Something was lifting them up from underneath. Maggie stumbled backwards.

_Run run run. _

She plowed forward but couldn't bring herself to look away from the dismal scene that was taking place behind her. As she went she watched as dirty roots ripped from beneath the loose tiles, quickly becoming silhouettes in the looming blackout. She was running full speed now, arms set free, thrusting her forward. It was so loud. A rumbling was approaching either side of her. She whipped her head to the right and saw incredible cracks tearing through the walls, keeping up with her pace. Outrunning her.

The fluorescent lights began bursting, glass encasements exploded and rained down around her. The shards sounded like screams as they scattered. The roots were monstrous now. They ripped through the ground, beneath her feet, rupturing the tiles underneath her, spraying lumps of dirt as they escaped. Maggie faltered, fighting to keep her balance. She watched as a snakelike root rushed past her and continued on. It then shot upwards, tearing into the ceiling, blocking her path. She could taste the falling soil as it pelted her face, getting in her mouth.

More roots twisted around the erected blockade_. _A jungle was building itself up. Trees forming instantly and crowding the once sterile hall. The tearing and crumbling noises were all around her. A roaring whirlwind of pandemonium. The walls were moaning and collapsing, sending chunks of drywall and insulation everywhere. Maggie hit the ground, screaming. She couldn't even hear herself, but she could feel the ceiling falling apart on top of her, trampling upon her backside in fragmented pieces. She covered her head, trying to protect it, yelping in pain with each impact. Her knees began to sting. Her sides were being pounded. She could feel the air escape from her lungs. She kept on screaming, desperate to hear her own voice, even if it hurt her to do so.

"Maggie!"

A voice. So close, too. "HELP ME! PLEASE!" She tried to yell. She mouthed it, but still no sound came from her.

"Maggie!" The voice called again.

_You have been gone for so long..._

The noise around her was then silenced. It didn't fade. It simply turned off. The rumbling ceased. The debris no longer fell. All was calm.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Maggie lie still, appreciating the silence. She was horrifically overwhelmed. She coughed, her throat searing. She lay a moment longer, inhaling sweet, cold air. She could smell wet dirt and grass. She was on her stomach. Slowly moving one of her arms away from her face, a beam of sunlight greeted her cheek. It felt nice and warm, though the rest of her felt cold and numb. _I'm outside._ Ideas raced through her head. It entered her mind that perhaps she was on the front lawn of her apartment. _Another bender. I passed out. Oh my God. This is so embarrassing. Please Jesus, I hope I didn't piss myself-_

"Maggie?"

"Whoa!" She jolted, rolling slightly away from the source of the voice.

"Oh good! You're alive!" A girly voice shrieked happily. She kept on, but Maggie was taken by a dizziness as she sat up. Her attention waned in and out. Like waking from an unpleasant nap. Her head was pounding.

"Feels like forever ago I said the same thing to Peter! That's kinda funny, huh?" The stranger continued. Maggie took in none of it. She just heard the sound of the tiny voice rambling on.

"Ugh." Maggie ran her hand through her frazzled hair, plucking out twigs.

"I dragged him here unconscious, too. I think I see a pattern. Like father like-" The girl noticed she was talking to herself. "Maggie? Hello?"

Maggie's eyes drifted slowly, taking in the new surroundings. Definitely not her front yard. It was morning, and Maggie could feel the nip of it all around her. A light fog lingered through the trees, the sunlight still creeping in

"...Where...are you?" Maggie squinted, her eyes still settling into the bright light of the young morn. She could hear the voice, but couldn't see who or what it belonged to. It was so small sounding. Maybe she had 'butt-dialed' in her drunken stupor, and somebody was on the other line, confusedly trying to communicate with her. She patted the ground, the dewy turf wetting her palm. _My phone is in my purse. Where is my purse then? Damn._

Suddenly, a brilliant yellow glow took center stage, Maggie's field of vision illuminated. A buzzing accompanied it. "Ahheek!" Her arm shot up, shielding her face. _It's a bee It's a bee It's a fuckin' bee!_

"Watch it!" The voice yelped.

Lowering her arm slowly, Maggie now saw the small fairy, hanging in midair. She was no bigger than the length of her hand. Glowing happily against the morning setting, she looked sweetly at Maggie. She donned some rather worn out duds. They appeared to consist mostly of small bits of tanned leather and fall leaves. Her short, shaggy auburn hair was cut in a way that framed her soft, pointed face quite nicely. Little elfish ears sprang out of the sides, blushed at the tips. Frankly, she was adorable.

Maggie must have had a stupid look on her face, because the little pixie was now smiling widely, revealing a set of incredibly nice teeth.

"Mornin'." The tiny thing laughed.

With no idea where to start, Maggie continued to study the creature, dumbfounded. Her mouth hung agape, like a damn dirty mouth breather, tasting the morning air as she did so.

"I'm Tinkerbell." She continued.

Nothing.

"I hope you're not too upset with me. It was a bit of a rough trip."

Maggie stared.

"You scream really loud. I'm pretty sure all of Neverland knows you're here. We might want to get going, actually." She looked around as she spoke. "I don't wanna stick around to see who finds us first..."

"Where. Ww...what." Maggie licked her lips, took a moment, and tried again. "What happened?" Her voice cut out as she spoke. She could feel just how raw her throat felt now.

"Oh! Well. There was a bit of a scuffle at your place. By the time I got back to you, you were out cold."

Maggie blinked. Waiting for more. The fairy looked back at her, curiously. When nothing came from the wide eyed woman, she continued hesitantly.

"-aaaand. Shoes? You didn't have any shoes on." She looked past Maggie's head. This prompted her to turn and follow the fairies gaze. There, lying a few feet away, was one of her brown suede boots. Maggie's attention returned to the leaf clad sprite.

"Hope those are okay? They were by your bed, anyway."

Maggie nodded. Eyes blank.

"Great! Well, I'm really sorry! I dropped you." She pointed with her head. "You uh. Rolled down that hill." It was a gentle slope, covered in moss and some fallen branches from the surrounding trees. Maggie's back interjected painfully. _That explains a lot_. "Dropped the shoes too. That one didn't go too far after it hit you on the head." She said nonchalantly. "As for the other one..." She began looking around again.

_This bitch almost killed me._

"You were totally freaking out. Caught me off guard! One minute you were sound asleep, next thing I know, you're kicking and yelling- and gosh. I just. Well. Lost my grip!" The fairy raised her arms up in a freezing position, eyes wide, then shrugged.

Slowly, the trip here began to recount itself. Or at least, the hard landing.

_The cold breezes. The air getting knocked out of me_.

Looking down at the ground, Maggie saw the jungle floor covered in all sorts of torn up terrain, and rocks.

_The dirt I tasted. The pain in my sides. My head._

She recalled coming-to, momentarily. Trees rushing by in a frantic blur.

_The trees growing and lashing out_.

She lifted a hand to her face, feeling the small, stinging cuts. It was all just a wild ride through the jungle, being dragged in the air by a little magic bug. _Yes, of course_. Hell, as far as Maggie was concerned, she preferred this scenario versus being back in the hospital. She actually felt a wave of relief come over her as it all sunk in. "I'm." She was sorting the dream out for a moment. "I'm not...I wasn't in the hospital?"

"Not that I'm aware of...?" The fairies eyes widened.

Relief, again. As silly as it was, this was delivering a huge sign of reassurance. The smell of the hospital faintly lingered on the brim of her mind. She hated it so much. This mysterious jungle setting was a reprieve. She gladly accepted it, regardless of its severe oddities. To boot, Maggie was undeniably miserable in her apartment. So, while it'd make more sense to be there, she sure didn't miss it.

_and anything is better than that awful hospital bed._

At the very worst, she had just awoken from one dream, and entered another. Then she remembered the aspirin.

_No wonder I'm having such weird dreams. _

Turning herself over to all fours, Maggie could feel every inch of her body yelp in pain. Her knees were tender, and the cold moss felt nice against them. She reached out for her boot, tipped over in the nearby grass. She slid the size seven onto her cold bare foot, exhaled loudly, and looked up at Tinkerbell.

"My other boot." Her dry voice squeaked.

"OH! Yea, right! Gotta find it!" The little lady zipped off, her wings humming, into the woods. Her light faded out slowly, and then was gone.

Maggie slowly got to her feet, coping with the chorus of aches, and plodded in the opposite direction to search for her missing boot.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Ugh...Ouch!" Maggie stood at an odd clearing in the woods. She had come out of the tangled branches, in search of her missing boot, and saw that her shirt was beginning to fray in places. Partnered with her fall earlier, rips were completely inevitable._So much for this new shirt._ As she yanked the clinging limbs from her, she looked up, and gasped.

"BOOT!"

There, in the distance, the brown shoe sat neatly upon a tree stump in the middle of the expanse. How it landed this far away, and ever so perfectly, didn't cross her mind. The sore pallet of her naked foot drove her forward, without hesitation. Once she arrived at the lonely projection, she saw its base was whimsically covered with old toadstools. Maggie didn't want to bend down, to spare further exhaust to her back, so she leaned in a bit and swiped at the boot with her fingertips. _Get this thing on the ground. Slip my foot in. Profit._ Though, her plan of action was quickly interrupted when a stout, bearded man, dressed in baggy pirate garb, came bounding out from the jungle in front of her, opposite the stump.

"Gotcha!" The man yelled, triumphantly. "Fell for the oldest trick in the 'boot', eh?" He chuckled.

Maggie shrieked at his surprise entrance, and then started to laugh. He struck her as amusing. "Somebody call the fun police, this guy's droppin' bad puns."

The man's brow could not have raised any higher. "Come again, miss?" he asked, baffled. Maggie noticed the man was injured. His arm was cradled up by his belly, wrapped in a tattered cloth bandage, blood faintly showing through.

"...no? Alright. Sorry." She cleared her throat, wincing a bit, eyes darting from his face to his arm. "Is this your part of the jungle, Tarzan?" Her tone was dripping in uncomfortable sarcasm. Less we forget Maggie's notable conversation skills. "Pretty sure this isn't the Northwest, what with our lack of jungles and everything." She laughed again, feeling like an idiot with each word that came fumbling out.

The man shook his head, confusedly, bent down, and snatched up her boot. Maggie was far too achy and tired to handle this. _Homeless dude wants my shoe. Awesome._She tried again with the small talk.

"Toss 'er here, slugger." She snorted. However, the odd fellow did not. He tucked it under his good arm and moved forward.

"You don't look like a size seven, broseph." She noticed herself backing away as he came near. "Can you not?" Her voice becoming nervous. Something about the odd smile the man wore was strangely familiar. It wasn't sinister, but it did make Maggie uneasy.

"MAGGIE!" A scream echoed distantly from the thick woods. Maggie's head shot towards the source of the voice. In her moment of distraction, she stumbled backwards, her bare foot slicing through a tangle of weeds. She swung her arms back and landed on her palms, twisting one of her arms as the rest of her came tumbling down. The strange fellow was now bounding in her direction, but he looked panicked. Before he could close in, a familiar bright light was now hovering over his head. He swatted at it, yelping. His ear was being yanked on.

"Pixie bitch! Git'off!" He began to flail, whipping the stolen boot through the air like a weapon. In the midst of chaos, the shoe escaped his grip and once again, slammed into Maggie's head.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" Maggie cried. Her palm shot up to her temple.

The odd fight scene continued to take place, its participants completely ignoring her. The fairy buzzed around the man's head, jingles and sparkling dust erupting with each impact she made. "YOU. STAY. AWAY. FROM. HER!" Tinkerbell enunciated angrily as she attacked. The man shielded himself with his left hand and began to work off a striped scarf from around his waist with the other. Once it was loose, he used it as a whip. He swatted madly at the pixie, with audible 'HA's as he did so. The tattered cloth finally clipped her wings, midair, and she fluttered down daintily into the grass.

"N' that's for throwin' me out the window!" He belted, triumphantly. He tromped over to where the tiny creature landed, and scooped her up. "N'dontchu' dare bite me!" From within his loose pockets he pulled out an almost empty whisky bottle, uncorked it, and dropped the fairy inside.

"Have a drink, while you're at it." He harrumphed. The poor thing could only glare at him from within, her hands pressed against the glass. Tinkerbell began yelling something. Maggie tried reading the sprite's lips. '_You stupid ass!'_The boot thief then slipped the bottle back into his pocket. He made his way to Maggie again.

"Sorry for the trouble, but If you please, miss. I need'ya to come with me." He was calm, but taxed from his little struggle, his breathing a bit unsteady. He offered her his hand, smiling kindly.

"Why in the actual hell would I trust you? You steal women's shoes and beat up fairies." She scowled at him.

"Listen, I've been asked to deliver ye', and I'd prefer if you'd cooperate. It'd make things a lot easier for th'both of us." The man said, matter-of-factly.

"Tell you what." She refused his hand, and got up on her own, grimacing with each movement. "I'll go with you if you take me to a restroom and get me a cheeseburger first. I'm starving, and I _might_ just pee my pants."

Now, Maggie was a lady, yes, but she wasn't what you would label as classy. 'Well kempt, caring, and incredibly down to Earth' is what you'd hear if you asked anybody who knew her well enough. Apart from those endearing details, she often made questionable first impressions, bless her heart. The girl meant well enough, anyway, spare her lack of a filter. Besides, if she bolted now, she wouldn't know where to begin looking for a way out of here. She'd stick with this oddball until she could think up a plan of action.

The portly gentleman's brows furrowed with great abashment at hearing her request. It took him a second to respond. "Right. Yes. I'm sure that can be arranged. Let's head back then." There was a faint clinking from within his pocket. Maggie envisioned Tinkerbell pounding crazily against the glass bottle that contained her. Maggie felt a bit stuck, she was exhausted and honestly done with this outlandish day as it were.

_I'll get her out of there once we get back to town. This guy won't be hard to lose._

It then struck Maggie that she was contemplating an escape from a piratey-clad scoundrel in order to save a flying fairy tale critter.

_Wait until I tell Rosie about this shit. She's going to put me right back on my meds._

Maggie exhaled. "Lead the way, Skipper."

They had been walking through the thick jungle for a few minutes when Maggie began her 'break the silence' small talk. "So, where are we? You've got redwoods in here. Which coast are we on?"

There was no reply to Maggie's statement.

"Are we even in the States?"

The man just kept on, a few feet ahead of her.

"Hey, dude, don't give me the cold shou-" She stopped talking immediately.

They had come partly out of the woods, a slight drop off ahead. Maggie's jaw hung in awe as she pushed forward to get a better look.

"Hoooooly..." She gasped.

Spanning out in front of her was a wide and stunning landscape. She stood at the edge of a flat top crag, flowers of all sorts blossoming wildly upon it. It overlooked a vast, cerulean ocean cove, surrounded by rich, colorful greenery. Large, curiously shaped mountains were wrapped around the calm cul-de-sac shape. As she scanned the wondrous spectacle before her, she could detect each season. While one end of this island was dazzling and warm like a summertime escape, the far end was snow capped and still.

"...h-hey." Not breaking her gaze, Maggie gestured her hand out lazily to get her guides attention. "Where are we, exactly?"

"The Never Neverland."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The change of scenery was quite striking. Maggie's footfalls had been delivered from the soft dirt of the jungle, to a wooden plank walkway. It was a fairly quaint entrance, framed by tangled leafage and vines, that led out to a much wider backdrop. Ahead of her was a shabby, bustling town that extended out over the water. The clamor and commotion all around was seasoned with the caws of seagulls, circling above and resting on crooked dock posts. Constructed mostly of boardwalks, it was crammed full of odds n' end buildings, and dingy shop fronts. At the furthest end there was a large harbor, where Maggie could make out a handful of traditional vessels, their masts swaying gently along with the body of the boats. Certainly, this town had quite the personality.

Maggie suddenly felt exhilarated. The need to scope out this new place and its curious appearance was strong. _I bet there are some sick antique shops here. _That thought alone got her blood pumping. There was a giddy, yet eerie retention flashing through her mind. Maggie absolutely lived for that feeling. She was addicted to the rush of nostalgia and remembrance. Things from her past, and places saturated in history intrigued her to no end. They reminded her of past lives. Her childhood. Simpler times, overall. Why this place brought that out in her, she wasn't entirely sure, but she knew the feeling well when it struck.

"Hey, this place have a name?" She asked her hairy hijacker.

"This here 'es known as Pirate Town." He answered, shrugging slightly. "Don't remember it, eh?" He said it with confusion, lifting his brow once again.

"What do you mean?" Maggie found herself wanting an answer to that straight away, though, she was jarringly interrupted.

"Mister Smee!" A ratty fellow hollered from under a wooden shelter. He was stacking barrels, but stopped to wave his arm in their direction.

"Aye!" Another man, loading a fish cart, became alert and excited upon hearing the name.

This triggered a fall in of calls and cheers from the surrounding crowd, and as it spread outwards, Maggie could even see heads popping out of windows high above. _People really dig this guy._

"Are you King of the Reenactors or something?" Maggie puffed, a smile running across her face. _This is fucking hilarious. _

Smee was wholeheartedly distracted by his uproarious welcoming party and was ignoring her again. Maggie was feeling impatient, as her stomach and bladder began to turn up their aches in unison.

"Sweet Jesus, I gotta find a Honey Bucket or something..." She muttered. Turning about, she looked for someplace that might have promise of a public facility. She spotted a bar not too far ahead, and figured she'd check it out. Smee didn't seem like he'd notice if she split for a few minutes.

Maggie took off at a quick pace, heading down a more vacant boardwalk. Cutting across creaky boards, stepping over empty fishing nets, and avoiding buckets full of fish heads, she soon found herself at the rickety establishment. At the building front. The sign read 'The Drunken Wench', with a crude painting of a smirking, tipsy woman. The doorway was in the style of an old saloon. She pushed her way inside, and was further entertained by the folks whom resided there.

_Wow, people really take this pirate thing seriously around here. _

She was undeniably conflicted.

_Maggie. For shit's sake. They're probably legit. Did you already forget about the FAIRY? _

What did legit even mean at this point? What did any of this mean?

_I'm spiraling...oh shit. Relaaax. _

Apart from facing these odd visual prompts, she still wasn't sure what to make of it all, but the fact of the matter was, she had to piss like a racehorse.

"S'cuse me. Have you got a restroom...? I don't have an ID on me but I don't want to order anything." Maggie had sauntered up to the ringlet stained counter and locked 'eye' with the patch wearing gentleman that stood behind it. He had a perma-sneer that undoubtedly amused her. He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, sniffled deeply, and then returned to work.

"Right. Thanks. Down the creepy hallway. Gotcha." She replied, her tone flat.

Maggie had been to shady, gross pubs and bars before, so this was nothing. No public restroom could ever phase her. She made her way down the stale smelling hallway and went through the only door that looked auspicious enough to be the bathroom. In that moment she was, for once, shocked.

"Whelp..." She looked around. This was the most historically accurate latrine she had ever laid eyes on. Or ever, for that matter.

The throne before her was basically a wooden box with a hole cut out of it. Either this place was that old, or this town took portraying history _very_ seriously.

_Or this is a real pirate town..._

"Forget it." Maggie shook her head, and closed the unfortunate slab of wood that's sole purpose was to be a door.

She only got halfway through unzipping her shorts, when she noticed that there was no toilet paper to be seen. "Mother. Fucker." Luckily, there was a sink, if you could call it that, perched lazily in the corner of the small room. It'd be of use afterwards.

She was too desperate. In her furious agony of having held it that long, she broke. Hovering over the ominous shit hole, she let loose. Her eyes rolled up and she sighed, laughing pleasantly. "Thank you Jesussss."

Relived, yet suitably irritated, Maggie awkwardly hobbled over to the sink, her knees holding her shorts up above her ankles, and flipped the latch on the dilapidated sink.

"My life. This is my life and I'm not surprised." She quietly sang the improvised jingle to herself as she splashed what had to be the coldest water of all time onto herself. "Ffffffffffffucking obviously!" She shrieked.

Once all was said and done, she pulled up her bottoms, grimacing as her cold crotch made contact. "This is so sad." Whining, she proceeded to wash her hands, fingertips going numb under the flow of water, and then patted them on the thick denim to dry. She sighed, gave the room one last amusing look, and then made her way out.

Leaving through the saloon doors, Maggie jogged back to where she had left Mr. Popularity.

"There you are!" An angry Smee announced.

"Sorry man, remember the whole, 'gotta pee' thing?" She apologized bitterly, flapping her arms out.

"Can't have you runnin' off then! Grab her up boys, the captain's expectin' this one, pronto!" He called at the surrounding crowd, out from which walked two very brutish and intimidating men.

"I didn't...DUDE. I went to the-" She got caught up in the hustle of being grabbed from each side. "L'eggo!" She twisted in their firm grasps, her arms looking quite tiny and frail in their monstrous hands.

"I thought we were cool, Smeagol!"

"Smee!" The two men growled, correcting her.

"WHAT THE FUCK EVER!" She shot a death glaze to each of them, still wriggling in their vice grips. Smee had taken the lead a ways ahead, and the ogre-esque lackeys began after him. Maggie's feet went from dragging across the planks below, to simply hovering in-between the two men's steady stride. There was no getting out of this one.

She watched from either side, the passing scenery, and noticed countless pairs of eyeballs watching as they cruised by. Three particularly frilly individuals caught her attention for a moment. It was a gaggle of hilariously dressed Rococo themed damsels. Powdered faces, violently applied blush, and insanely puffed hair-do's were a common theme between the women, and age seemed to have no relevance. One blonde, dressed in a glossy blue taffeta, looked to be in her late 30's, while the granny faced, red head in green had to be around the bend from 80. Their vibrant colors stood out among the dusty brown pallets of the overall crowd. Though, their expressions were oddly different from the majority of gawking onlookers. The ladies definitely had their eyes on the her, but they looked attentive and somewhat resentful.

Maggie's current condition kept her from thinking too much about it, and before long they had walked past them, and onto an upward slanting walkway. It led to a frightfully ominous ship, detailed with rich faded reds and gold. She couldn't see it in its entirety, but on the front of the ship, and clutched morbidly beneath the bowstrip, was a skeleton. Large and for decorative purposes, surely, but freaky nonetheless. Her heart sped up at the sight of it.

As it exited her view, she was now up the walkway far enough to see onto the ship's deck. It was clustered with pirate folk as well, who all looked far too enthusiastic about the situation.

_I'm either super high or Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and reveal the camera crew... _

Her thoughts were random and frantic. She wasn't worthy of a high budget television scare, was she?

_Jesus, that thought is almost scarier than real pirates. I really don't want to be on TV. If they caught me wetting my cooch on camera I'm going to kill myself. _

They had now reached the main deck in full, and were centered in front of an elegant staircase. The crowd wound itself around, making space for Smee and the thuggish louts that had carried Maggie there.

"Put me the fuck down! Seriously!" Maggie's aches were returning in full force, and visions of her entire trip to this place replayed in her mind furiously. She executed a full forced distortion to loosen the men's grip, her body thrusting wildly to the side. It hurt her more than she would have preferred, but to no avail. They held on. She kicked at their legs for good measure, yet they only tightened their grips.

Maggie then remembered a drunken college cat fight she had once had. Some scuzzy upperclassmen had her held down, three against one, and in her most pure moment of animalistic fury, she had bitten one of them. Oddly enough, It was an incredibly victorious moment. Maggie always had a hard time comprehending that she had done it, but always felt that little surge of gratification when it would cross her mind.

So, in this bizarre moment, the trip down memory lane couldn't have come at a better time. _Fuck it._ Her head swiveled to the left, she opened her mouth, and went for an arm. In her attack haze, she concentrated on biting as hard as she could. She held until something happened, forcing her mouth as tight as possible until she could feel the pressure overcome her jaw. Finally, the grunt could no longer take it. The man opposite him had a moment of panic while watching Maggie attack, as if a spider had crawled onto his arm. They both frenetically threw Maggie forward, tucking their arms in and stepping back near the crowd.

Maggie hit the ground with a generous thud, her legs projecting up from the collision with the deck. They came back down hard, her ankle bones chattering together. She yowled, her face down. The intake of breath was full of dirt and dust, igniting abrupt and painful coughing. After the brief fit, she could hear thundering cheering and chants from the crew. Some ooo'd, some laughed, but nobody came to her aid. Maggie was humiliated and undeniably upset. Apart from that, she was again handled quite carelessly, and she could feel it all over.

Lifting her head a bit, Maggie rested on her arm. The clank of her vile shaped necklace upon the boards sounded hollow and dainty, and that's when Maggie noticed that was all she heard. Once the accessory had rolled to a stop by her arm, it was apparent that everybody aboard the ship had grown weirdly quiet, all at once. She slowly pushed herself up to her feet, and faced the silent crowd. Even the fowl in the sky had become hushed. She looked from face to face, and not a one was looking at her. They all looked past her. As if time itself had stopped. Only the muted throng's clothes ruffled lightly in the ocean breeze.

Maggie backed away from them, glaring suspiciously. Suddenly, the entirety of her slender frame came to an abrupt halt. A tiny cry escaped her as she made contact. She faltered, losing her balance in the alarm. She had backed into someone. She found herself leaning into the stranger behind her, her backside pressed flat against them. Her hand fought to find support so she could push herself away quickly, but a searing cold caress made its way across her neck, stopping her in her tracks.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Welcome back, Maggie..."

_My child, don't be afraid._

That voice. It tore asunder the tightly closed vault of Maggie's once forgotten memories. The overwhelming rush of days long since passed. In that very moment, any doubt she had about her brief adventure in Neverland, the incredible feats she survived, came rushing back in vivid detail. The shadow that once haunted her in the night. It had all been real. As real as his warm breath on her ear now.

_You're a bad man._

In absolute panic, Maggie's hand rushed up to the arm now locking her into its grasp. She took hold, and swung herself out from under the chilled metal. The tip of the weapon caught her under the chin, and she cried out as she hit the floor.

Looking up, Maggie found herself undeniably bewildered. He stood there, as familiarly striking as the day she first saw him. She felt like a child again, what with him now towering over her. A menace from so long ago.

**Hook.**

"Holy hell..." She breathed.

The villain clicked his tongue, "Reckless, my dear." He gazed upon his notorious claw, and with a gloved hand, cleaned the tip of it. Without turning his head, he shifted his gaze to the dumbfounded woman that sat before him.

In her shock, Maggie didn't notice the hot, steady stream of blood trailing from beneath her chin, down to her neck.

"Smee, a handkerchief, please." Hook requested casually.

"Ah, yessir." Smee quickly began digging into his saggy pockets, and pulled out a dainty cloth. An intricate J.H. was embroidered in red on a single corner of it. He walked it over to the captain.

Taking the material, Hook knelt down in front of Maggie and proceeded to gently address her wound. She looked up at his face, hardly breathing. He hadn't changed at all.

Hook noticed she was staring. He raised one of his dark, messy brows at her. "You look as though you've seen a ghost." Still lightly dabbing her cut. His eyes glowed in the faint sunlight. As he looked upon her, Maggie felt her cheeks get hot.

Hook's lip twitched under his tidy handlebar mustache. "Surprising, how quickly the color has returned to your face." He murmured, noticing her unusual flushing.

Maggie's overall reaction couldn't have felt more muddled and confusing. She had been caught off guard. Her first reception was terror, though, as she sat there, finally confronting this dark foe of her youth, she felt oddly indifferent.

Hook studied the young woman. _This curious creature. Can she be the same girl...?_ He supposed she looked somewhat familiar. The soft, long, almond blonde hair. The vivid blue eyes. If it were in fact Maggie, she had, without a doubt, grown up. Hook hadn't been expecting that. He had predicted she would have been the same frightened child he had once kept in his possession, long ago. Though, it was foolish to assume anything. He recollected that long awaited confrontation with Peter. He had been so dissatisfied.

_Can it be? My great and worthy opponent?_

Hook often forgot that time had its way of aging those away from Neverland. That young, fiery eyed boy was gone forever. It made Hook's stomach sick just thinking about it. As if their rivalry meant nothing. Such horrible form.

Pan had the audacity to leave a second time, and made the mistake of assuming his nemesis was dead. What good was a duel to the death when both men were left standing? Oh, Hook was furious. Hurt, even. His patience had indeed been tested.

How much longer would he have to wait until he got another chance? The anticipation tore at him every day. Each time his furry faced bo'sun would come running into the cabin, his heart would falter, always expecting news of Pan's elderly death.

_"We have to hurry. We need try again, dammit. Just get him here!"_ Always followed by a raging swing of his hook. The once handsome cherry wood desk he'd sit and brood at was now a hacking target for the iron claw's furious strikes. Smee found himself sweeping up the ever accumulating piles of sawdust that would form on the floor beneath the poor work space, feeling lucky his captain was taking out his anger on inanimate objects.

Hook thought of Peter and his family returning to their lives, moving on, forgetting him again. It drove him absolutely mad. He was not finished with them yet. Hook would be damned if he would leave things as they were. A stubborn man, he was. A man scorned. Insulted.

He was incredibly displeased with the closing scene from their last battle, and when things weren't to Hook's liking, he required do-over's. He still wanted a war. A real war. He would try again. He would prepare. He would be ready. Neverland would be at his mercy, oh yes, and Pan would have no choice but to return. While the island became enveloped by a fiery battlefield, its residents all pitted against one another, Hook would take to the center of all the disarray and await the inevitable final battle. The chaos he would paint across the island would be delicious. That was his desire.

So, yet again, Hook found himself looking at a piece of his old adversary. The offspring of his ultimate opposition. The perfect bargaining chip. Yet, Hook didn't feel the same disappointment for her growing older. Surprised, surely, but definitely not disappointed. She was still Pan's daughter, and she would be useful in bringing his plans to fruition as before. Though, her aging meant Pan was significantly older now. Just as he feared.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Hook encircled Maggie's free hand with his claw, pulling it up to her chin. He placed the handkerchief into her hand, and as she grasped it, he pushed her hand back to the wound. He then got to his feet, their intense gazes failing to falter. "Well, do you wish to speak?" He addressed her, with an inquiring look.

"THAT." She pointed to his hook, shaking her finger crazily before returning it to the floor just behind her for support. She inhaled and swallowed, "YOU. I remember YOU." She felt numb. Holding herself up was a challenge that she subconsciously realized, as her attention was fully concentrated in front of her. What was happening in her mind was an entirely different story. It thundered wildly as if a stampede was recklessly crashing through. She could feel the aching pinch of the vein in her temple as it began to rise and throb.

"So glad you remember." He opened his arms, palm up, hook at rest. "I must say, I'm flattered that I could be so quick to jog your memory." He smirked.

"It wasn't a compliment." Her voice had gotten deep, flustered. She kept the hankie pressed tightly against her cut as she pushed herself to her feet. She took a few steps back, while dusting the back of her shorts.

"No matter, Maggie! You're here now. Please, get comfy while you wait for daddy to come to the rescue." Hook stated with a lip biting statement, now looking out to his pirate crew for a reaction. They laughed and whooped, taking the smiling visual cue from their leader.

"Whoa whoaaa!" Maggie yelled over the crowds enthusiastic eruption. The gathering of men quieted, some directing their attention to her, others looking to Hook for his reception. "You're kidding, right?" She started to laugh, her annoyance coming through. "This is insane. You're insane."

Hook was quiet for a short moment before he turned to Smee, "What the hell happened to you?"

"Ah'm. Reconnaissance was a bit troublesome, sir. The Darling's home was empty. Had to track this one down. The girl is on her own now." Smee uttered.

"I don't care about that. What happened to your arm?" Hook waved his hand at Smee.

"Er, well, the pixie-" Smee hesitated.

"What of her?"

"She knew I was comin' for the girl. She..." He looked over at Maggie, as if searching for some kind of reassurance. "Must'ave been followin' me the whole time! She beat me there. Took her!" Smee lifted his arm, hoping for even the slightest ounce of sympathy.

"You were overpowered by the fairy?" Hook's stare was tearing through his second-hand man.

Smee shyly nodded. "I apprehended the lady shortly after she arrived. Chased that fairy bitch back, I did. Caught her too!" Smee tried to sound confident. He pulled out the bottle which contained Tinkerbell, shaking it proudly. The fragile fairy tumbled around haphazardly, whisky splashing all around her.

Hook snatched the bottle out of Smee's hands, and glanced at it. "Ahh yes, Miss Bell. Always getting involved, aren't we?" He then followed suit and tucked the glass into an ornate pocket on his rich red jacket, hiding the helpless creature from sight once more. Hook strode away slowly, looking out over the water. The caw of the seagulls playing during the short intermission.

Hook then spun back around. He sighed, a low growl audible. "Dare I even ASK where Jack is?"

Smee gulped, and attempted a response, "I tried to get'um! I swear to ya, sir! Went in, saw Jack alone in his bed, n' some horrible woman came out of nowhere! Hit me right o'er the head! I took out through the children's room, trippin' and hollerin'- damn well woke the whole house-"

Maggie snorted, trying not to laugh out loud at the mention of a crazed Rene attacking Smee.

"STOP." Hook bellowed. "You mean to tell me that Jack now has young children of his own? If you knew Maggie and Jack were grown, did it not occur to you to perhaps take them instead? Would it not have been easier?" He grumbled, while rubbing his forehead.

"S-sir. You DID request Pan's children. I mean, I suppose I could a've..." Smee spoke, frustrated, but very quiet.

Hook closed his eyes and inhaled. "What a mess. What an absolute mess." He paced. "Fine. This can still work. What of the girl? What did you find out?" He conversed as if Maggie weren't standing near him. Smee perked up, and reached into his vest. He presented Hook with various paperwork he had tucked away there.

"Everythin' you need to know is here. It's Pan's brat, you betcha'." Smee sifted through the papers, both of their eyes feasting upon them. Hook slid on some delicate, gold rimmed reading specs as he looked over the information. He bit his lower lip, the creases in his chin becoming more noticeable.

"Excuse me? The hell is all that?" Maggie asked, looking puzzled. The two men disregarded her question, completely enveloped in the documents before them.

Hook groaned loudly, sighed, and took his glasses off, "Ohh Smee, she's a mess."

Maggie dropped the handkerchief when she angrily jogged over to the two men. "Give me that!" She tore the papers out of Hook's hand. She glanced at the documents. Shrieking furiously, Maggie exclaimed, "This is all my hospital shit!" She shuffled through more of it,"...how did you even get this stuff?"

Maggie's was interrupted when she noticed Smee retrieve something else from his pocket. He panicked, and then quickly crammed it back. She wasn't the only one who noticed, Hook had as well. Without a beat, he laid out his palm, looking at Smee with a deadly stare. The stubby man shyly placed the wanted item face down into the silent hand before him, and proceeded to look away, turning a crude shade of red.

Hook had been given a wrinkled, open faced magazine, and the moment he laid his eyes upon the pages, Maggie saw his brow raise. His head tilted, in a very peculiar, dog like fashion. He looked past the magazine, directly at her, and then back down. "Oh my. You _have_ grown up..."

Maggie was already livid. Her personal boundaries had been blasted wide open, she felt exposed. Stripped down.

"Hand it over, shit head." When the pirate did not do as she had asked, she swiped the book from out of his gloved fingertips with cat-like reflexes.

_Oh GOD no._

Her face went white. She began to growl in a high, furious pitch. The item Smee had tried to withhold was a magazine with undeniably sensuous images of Maggie, on the page in question, she was donning a revealing, ivory lace ensemble. Her back erotically arched, and face looking quite alluring. It was one her her more mature modeling moments. Her first full spread that had been published.

Maggie had tried her hand at modeling with the assistance of some photographers that she had met through college friends. She had felt inclined to give it a shot, seeing as she was often complimented on her rather lovely looks, and boyfriends weren't uncommon either, for that matter. So when the opportunity arose, there wasn't much that detoured her, self esteem wise. Twenty three was an odd age of uncovering herself, pun intended, as she settled into the hazy frontier of womanhood. The glamorous reception of being a model had infected her for a short time, and she had a handful of rather nice, but risque, photo shoots she took part in that made up her portfolio. She managed to score shoots for several decent magazine spreads, and a variety of successful clothing websites in her short lived career. Unfortunately, with the financial relief the work provided, she was introduced to some unsavory individuals, which ultimately aided in playing a rather large role in her downward spiral. In the end, Maggie had preferred to do her best to forget that time in her life. She found the evidence of it quite embarrassing now. Especially with two idiotic pirate men now ogling it. _Mortifying._

Hook was now looking at her with a very different set of eyes, while Smee still couldn't bring himself to look at her. It was clear that having to register Maggie as an adult was not as simple a task as one would assume. They stood quite silently.

"Anything else you'd like to know?" She paced vehemently. "You goddamn creeps." She then looked over to see the crowd of unkempt faces looking at her, peculiarly. "Having fun, assholes?!" She snapped at them. Several of the men in the front row reeled back in fear.

"This. Is. So. Ridiculous!" Maggie spoke a word per page as she furiously tore them out of the magazine. Anger had filled her entirely. Her eyes blurred with rage. The pirates could only look on as she destroyed the magazine. Pages fluttered lazily to the floor.

Maggie's head shifted over to Hook with sudden ferocity, throwing down what was left of the vandalized book. She then glided up to him, her face sullen and intimidating. She had an idea.

_The only person here that can help me now is..._

Maggie pointed viciously, almost poking Hook in the eye. "You better spill the beans before I sink this ship!" She snapped. Their eyes were locked, neither made a move for a moment. _That's right, concentrate on me, bud._ While the captain stood frozen in the odd confrontation, Maggie quickly slipped her hand into his coat pocket and successfully snatched the whiskey bottle. Although, her triumph was short lived. Hook had snapped out of his daze quickly, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her arm up. The bottle fell from her hand right away as she twisted uncomfortably and yelped in his tightening grip. "Ahh, bad form, my dear!" He hissed.

"Let go!" Maggie hollered. Her wrist beginning to ache. Her resistance only added pressure, and she reluctantly fell into Hook to lighten the strain. Partially on her tip toes, her face at the nape of his neck, she whispered, "Please! Please stop, that really fucking hurts." Her eyes watered.

Hook was appalled by his sudden reaction, but his fragile ego had taken control, and it screamed into his mind, _You'd really let Pan's daughter best you like that? Embarrass you in front of your entire crew, no less?_

Hook hesitated. He had loosened his grip some, his guilt fighting back against his wounded pride. The girls head was propped right beneath his chin, her distressed breathing tepid against his neck. A pleasant aroma greeted his nose suddenly. _Tea tree._ He could smell her hair. It was such a nostalgic scent that he was oddly inclined to take a deep breath of it. The warm, minty fragrance delivered to him an uncalled-for wave of tranquility. It made him calmly coherent. _Relax, James. Handle it._

Maggie sighed, returning her feet flat to the ground, and looked up at the smokey eyed scoundrel. The two stared at each other, expressions wary. Hook opened his mouth, but closed it again._What a confusing creature she is._ He didn't dare soften in his mixed feelings. He had to keep the upper hand. Channeling the intimidating, silver tongued pirate he was, he spoke to her in a low, rumbling voice. "Be careful, now."

Maggie was taken aback by the entire debacle, her dread in his presence slowly returning. _Maybe I_should_be afraid._


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The Banning's household was located in a quaint, immaculate neighborhood just outside of Billings Montana. Peter had called it quits on the lawyer business almost twenty years ago, and they all decided to try something completely new. Again and again...and again. They moved a lot due to the new occupation Peter had gotten into, and they had just settled into yet another new home.

They opted for a place that was more secluded, but still close enough to the city. Moira got to enjoy her days relaxing in their lodge-esque home, which had a very stunning view of the Blue Creek. Peter especially enjoyed it, as the location was fairly ideal for his work, as it was no more than a twenty five minute drive into downtown. The couple felt they had both won out with the situation. As to how long the two would stay there, that was yet to be known.

Though, Moira was alone quite a bit. Peter still worked a fair amount of hours, and it was painfully quiet some days. Today, however, was a day she had been very much looking forward to. She had counted down the days, and the 25th had finally reared its head. Her son Jack was on his way with his family, and Moira couldn't have been more excited to see them. Soon the house would be full of the sweet, innocent sounds of children laughing, and all of the wonderful smells that came with the holiday season.

Moira paced through the entryway every few minutes, like an expectant dog awaiting the return of its master. Any minute now, they'd be knocking at the door.

"How about you come on in here and just sit down?" Peter poked his head out from around the kitchen.

"Ohh I know, I'm just so thrilled to see them! I can hardly stand it!" She smiled.

"Here, I'll pour you some of my famous spiked eggnog." He shook the carton with a grin.

Moira had turned to join him, but there it was, the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway.

"OHH! They're here!" She sang, speed walking to the door. She made her way out to the porch, being greeted by the cold nip of the morning. She waved frantically, one arm held tight beneath her breasts, keeping her cardigan closed. "Brr, get in here guys! The fireplace is nice and warm!"

"Hey mom!" Jack walked out from behind the open trunk, arms full of bags. He had gotten to the bottom of the steps when a wail came from the car, "JACK! You need to grab my bags too, you know how my back is after such a long car ride." It was Rene. She was still in the passenger seat, checking her makeup. Moira waved to her, but Rene sighed, twitched her mouth to make a half assed smile, and then looked back to her compact.

"Grandma!" A joyous voice called out. It was Jacks' oldest, Greyson He had leaped out of the car, his backpack dragging behind.

"My darling boy!" Moira crouched down, arms open. She received the child in a tight embrace, laughing. She had missed having young children, and as unfortunate as Jack's choice in mates was concerned, he still had two wonderful children that she got to spend a fair amount of time with. Those were the things she looked most forward to. She was always hoping Maggie would follow suit so she could partake in grand mothering a little longer.

"Get your bum inside and go see Grandpa!" Moira patted Greyson on the shoulder and pointed him inside. Jack waited for her to stand back up before doling out an awkward one armed hug, the bags on his shoulders threatening to tumble down his arm at any moment. "I'm gonna toss these in the entry way and grab Mischel real quick." Jack said.

Jack had wanted so badly to name his daughter after his favorite grandmother, or great grandmother, to be exact, though Rene wouldn't hear of it. She had made up her mind far in advance. So, instead of traditional names, Rene felt the need to stick with pretentious ones. "It's attractive and modern." She'd explain. Their daughter was given the unfortunately snobbish misspelling of the name Michelle. "It isn't in any name books. She'll have a unique name. It oozes celebrity!" As always, Jack would just nod and agree. He didn't dare bother pitching ideas for names. He did the first time and learned that it was a very silly thing to try and do, of course. Rene had looked over at him one night and said, "You just shouldn't bother coming up with names anymore. None of them are any good, baby." That ended the argument quite quickly.

Jack and his family had settled into Carson City in Nevada and didn't visit all too often. Moira found herself visiting them as much as possible instead, even if it wore her out to do so. Those kids were going to grow up fast and she wanted to see as much of them as she could. Though, staying in their home was always a bit stressful, what with Rene being the overpowering personality that she was. Always in control.

Jack had spent his young adult life working on furthering his education. In his community college days he was an avid baseball player. He never let go of his love for the game, that is, until he was in a horrible car accident. His left leg took most of the damage, and while he recovered quite well, he was never able to return to playing. He had to leave the field behind him. Though, his love for the sport never waned, so he decided to delve deeper into it. He attended the Columbia Southern University, and left with an impressive diploma. He entered his career in sports management a bit later and was loving every second of it. The big paychecks are worth mentioning as well. He was right where he wanted to be.

Rene finally got herself out of the car, adjusting her designer handbag's straps, and zipping up her sweater coat. Rene made her way up the walkway and onto the porch and reeled back a bit as Moira went in for a hug. She gave in, but arched her back out, lightly patting Moira on the shoulder. "Hi. I have to pee, I've been holding it since Sheridan." She click-clacked away quickly. She had on a simple pair of black leggings, which allowed you to see the shapes of her ass jostling within the fitted cotton polyester blend as she walked. She was quite fit, and easy on the eyes, but the second she opened her mouth, she was a pretty awful person. Her voice would become high when she would speak. Each word dripping, non genuine, from her over bleached smile.

Upon entering the realm of dating, Rene had treated Jack like a puppy, and in return, he often acted as one. He worshiped her. She always spoke to him in an obnoxious baby voice, but after the ceremonial words were exchanged, she dropped the cute thing and began to yell and holler at him most days. That is, unless she really needed something.

The family had a rough time with Rene, from the early days of dating, to their marriage. She had generally been the cause for many a frustrating time. She worked part time as a personal fitness trainer. Unbeknownst to Jack and the entire family, Rene was having a steamy affair on the side, with a client that had as much of a penchant for veggie smoothies and working on his 'glutes' as she did. It was her scandalous escape from her settled-down life that waited for her at home. She owned Jack, but after obtaining him, she felt a bit trapped. Rene had never been with another man before, and the temptation was far too strong to resist. She was good at keeping both worlds separate, however. If ever her late evenings at work were questioned, she'd simply become emotional and describe the determined, and once miserable clients coming in. They came there just to see her, for her guidance and help. How inspiring she must be. Jack would always feel a warm shroud of pride come over him when she shared this with him.

"How could I be upset? You're changing people's lives!" He'd exclaim.

Rene had given up on Jack, physically, years ago. Her obsession with physical health increasing with each passing year. The irony of her affair was that the man was training to be a professional ball player, as Jack had once been doing. Jack had gained some weight over the years, his chin finally disappearing around 2008. He wasn't really overweight, but once the kids came, the last thing he worried about was his appearance. He had been so caught up with fatherhood, that things just slipped a bit.

Jack wears his 'marital bliss' prescription glasses 24/7, and if he ever found out about his wife's infidelity, he'd wouldn't be able to believe it. Jack's life was ideal. Or so he thought. The whole family thought so. Him and Rene both worked. They made great money. Had two beautiful, healthy children. Life was perfect.

The family had gathered into the living room, the warm fire creating a very comfortable atmosphere in the richly colored wooden lodge. Peter had gotten everybody their drink of choice and had plopped down on the couch next to Moira, who gleefully bounced a baby Mischel on her lap. "It's just wonderful to have you all here! I've so been looking forward to it!" Moira chimed.

"Yea, we're really glad we get to spend the whole week! We could all use the getaway." Jack smiled.

"Well, you both work so much! Time to relax." Moira said.

"How's the team, Jackie?" Peter spoke up.

"Great! They're training for the upcoming season. It should be an exciting year!" Jack explained, proudly. Him and his father bonded often on the topic. Peter was always so proud of his son, and with all that he had accomplished, how could he not be?

"So, no Maggie again this year." Rene said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, well, she actually had an appointment today, but will head out first thing tomorrow morning!" Moira replied happily.

"Busy huh? With what?" Rene sipped her drink.

"Oh, her psychologist. Just a mandatory little thing." Moira replied, carefully.

"Hm." Rene looked unimpressed. "Does she still do that porn thing?" She spoke up, dead pan. The room was quiet now, spare the crackling of the fireplace.

"...She's doesn't do..." Moira cleared her throat, her face getting hot. "She sees a doctor, that's all, and she's doing just fine."

"I bet, if you consider getting plastered and taking nudie photos doing fine." Rene kept on, finding this all very amusing.

Moira opened her mouth, but stopped. She looked to Jack, hoping he'd say something to defend his sister, but he was looking down at the floor, tapping his glass. She looked back to Rene, "She_ modeled _very briefly years ago, Rene, you know that. Now she, well, she isn't working. She's taking a break. Getting better. It's been a tough year for her." Moira looked away again, this time to the fireplace. Mischel gurgled on her lap, and waved an arm up at her Grandmother. She smiled at the baby but felt very uncomfortable now.

"You mean, she's still leeching money from you two with her whole 'boo-hoo' I'm depressed thing? She needs to get a job and grow up. You do too much for her, you know." Rene raised her hands up, speaking as boldly as usual. "With all of that, she still skips these get-togethers. It's rude if you ask me."

"Well, nobody asked you." Peter blurted. Nobody ever spoke to Rene like that, in fear of upsetting Jack, but she was crossing a line. The Banning's had all tried their best to get past the rough time their daughter went through. It had affected them all.

Rene raised her eyelids and looked down, "Well..." She shrugged. Jack looked terrified and was searching for something to say. Luckily he heard Greyson thumping around near the hallway and quickly decided to go get him. "Be right back..."

"Peter, will you hold this angel? I've got to get dinner started, I bet! Silly me! All this talking made me forget!" Moira suddenly spoke up. Peter was handed the tiny baby, a look of surprise on his face with the sudden gift.

"Yea- no problem, honey. You OK?" He could see the frustration in her eyes. He was about to get up and follow her, but looked down at the infant, trying to decide what to do.

"Oh, yes." Moira's face was painted with a painfully forced smile, as she made her way from the couch to the kitchen. She couldn't handle being in the room anymore. The usual holiday tradition was for Rene to corner each of the family members into terribly awkward topics, slathered with judgmental undertones.

After pacing about the kitchen for a few minutes, her head a mess of frustration and anger, Moira finally picked up the phone hanging on the wall by the fridge and dialed Maggie's cell. No answer. She wished she could at least be here as a buffer. Maggie was always good at defending herself and holding her own when Rene was around, but when she was absent, Moira got the brunt of Rene's discord.

Maggie had backed out of the last Christmas get-together, and it broke Moira's heart. Maggie had distanced herself ever since the incident. It had been a cold evening in 2010 when Moira received the most upsetting phone call of her life. Her daughter was in critical condition, being held at a medical center in downtown Seattle. Moira felt helpless being so far away. She had booked tickets for the earliest flight out that she could snag. Peter had been at work and unreachable by phone, and in her panic, she decided to leave on her own and contact him when she arrived in Washington. After Maggie was cleared, Moira stayed with her at her apartment for a few weeks to look after her.

During her stay, Moira came across a creased note on the night stand. What Maggie had written explained everything. Maggie hadn't meant to survive. The words she shared with her parents and brother had made that very clear. This was something Moira never intended to share with the rest of the family, but the previous Christmas, when Maggie was a no-show, she carefully brought it out. She had hoped it would shed some light on the confusion. Afterwards, Moira just smiled, her eyes undeniably sad, "She was very sick." and she discarded the letter. They had all done their best to understand why Maggie felt the way she did. They kept their arms open to her, but she had only showed more resistance. She was ashamed. Embarrassed. Moira and Peter had no idea how to change Maggie's mind. How to bring her back. She would just have to find the will to come around. The Banning's did their best to be patient.

Jack immediately told Rene about everything, but later regretted this. He often vented to his wife about many things, and this was the kind of gossip that sustained her wicked appetite. Jack loved his sister, but they had grown apart quite fiercely as they got older. It was a slow process, but eventually they just stopped talking. The fact they lived so far from each other didn't help either. They were so unrelatable now, too. Maggie was a solo, young adult who never settled down. She never graduated college either, very much unlike her older brother. She used school to make mistakes rather than learn. She ditched the straight and narrow early on, for reasons he never understood. Maggie couldn't seem to hold a job, or find a career that even interested her for long. She was constantly jumping around, trying different hings. Then the shit hit the fan. At that point Jack didn't know what he could even say to her. She hardly felt like his sister anymore. It was all very surreal for him.

The night had ended quietly enough, and Rene gave Moira less troubles after dinner. Once everybody had settled into their rooms for the night, Moira suddenly found herself feeling very distressed. As she lay next to her husband, their room only illuminated by the moon outside, she spoke, "I'm worried about Maggie."

"I'm sure she's fine." Peter yawned, now thinking about her. He stared up at the dark ceiling, waiting for Moira to speak again.

"Something just feels wrong. I don't know. What if she doesn't come?"

"She said she would. Call her again in the morning. Just get some sleep. The sooner you do the sooner it'll be tomorrow." He suggested.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Her stomach still didn't agree.

The horrible intuition followed her throughout the morning. It plagued her in the afternoon. By night she was a wreck.

Maggie never showed up.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Hook was still holding onto Maggie's wrist, but that was about to change. Maggie had taken a look around to see that the whiskey bottle had come to rest only a few feet away. It hadn't shattered in the scuffle, thankfully. She had yet to execute her plan of action and still fully intended to do so. Her eyes darted back to confirm the looseness of the grip that held her, and taking a chance, she ripped her arm out of Hook's clutches. Maggie turned as quickly as she could and lunged toward the bottle. Smee had reacted quickly, to his own surprise, his placement being only a few steps from the item in question. He didn't hesitate to give a swift kick to the bottle, sending it spinning wildly across the deck. He let out a valiant guffaw, feeling proud of his fast thinking.

Maggie screamed in frustrated defeat. She had already hit the ground, knees striking the floor uncomfortably. Her dive was too late, and she watched in horror as the bottle clanked it's way to the opening of the plank gap. In a pinball fashion, it bumped between the frame several times, slowed, and lazily spun at the edge of the slot.

"No no no!" Maggie yelled out. The bottle tipped, and without a sound, disappeared over the side of the boat. Nobody heard it hit the water, due to Maggie's footfalls on the deck as she ran. She raced to the side of the boat and searched, her hair drooping into her face as she looked down. The bottle bobbed in the water below, and drifted carelessly, further and further away. "SHIT!" She exhaled, exasperated. _Now what_.

"What a shame!" Hook said, the smile on his face could be heard in his words.

Maggie spun around to look at him, her arms wide across the side of the ship. She lifted her arm, palm up, fingertips straight, and gestured out to the sea before them. "Awesome! Really awesome!"

"A valiant effort, but all for not, I'm afraid." He began to walk towards her.

"Fuck you!" Maggie spat. She was completely lost at this point.

"That's not very nice."

"FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!" She yelled.

"I wouldn't advise further outbursts." He was now an arm's reach from Maggie, looking down at her with a befuddled expression.

Maggie's lips were pursed, looking as if she were about to erupt into shouts again. Instead, she inhaled quite loudly through her nose, and then batted her hand out, knocking Hook's hat off his head. A collective gasp from the crew could be heard.

Hook was absolutely surprised by the sudden attack on his beloved headgear. After it hit the deck with a light _'fwump'_, his eyes grew wide, "How DARE you!" Baring his teeth, Hook accusingly pointed his claw at her, his tone trenchant. _Absolutely childish!_

Again, Maggie lunged out at him, this time clasping both hands around the hook that had aimed itself at her. She yanked on it, like a dog fighting viciously over a sock.

_I'm gonna tear your hook off!_

Hook stalled, déjà vu striking him momentarily.

_See? No little children love me!_

He watched, holding steady, as the woman before him exhausted the last of her patience in such a furious fashion. It was fairly amusing, but he found Maggie's antics to be quite draining.

"SMEE! Get this urchin off of me!" Hook demanded.

"I want to go hoooooooome!" Maggie shrieked. She yanked harder, huffing and puffing now. "You weren't supposed to be REAL!" Her head was getting light now. She was so confused. So tired.

Smee approached Maggie from behind, but without even having to look back, the girl swung her elbow backwards and made contact with his nose. Smee stumbled away, astonished. His hand shot up to his injured schnoz, blood already seeping out. "Oghh y'wild bisch!" His words muffled. Several crewmen aided him, while others circled Maggie, unsure if they wanted to tangle with the girl themselves.

"Am I the only living man on this vessel?" Hook shouted, becoming increasingly irritated. He fought to stay in tune with the tugging, concentrating on his balance.

The men who had moved in jumped at the comment, no longer hesitating. They took to each side of Maggie, tearing her hands off their Captain.

"Hands off, ass hats!" She kicked out, furiously. Her foot came only inches from Hook's face.

"I've had quite enough of you, woman!" He was feeling offended now. This beast spawn of Pan had the audacity to create such commotion on the Jolly Roger. _I think not._ Hook had fully intended to give Maggie quarter for her compliance during her 'stay'. However, this was completely uncalled for._ A lady Pan raised, he did not! So appalling! She is a grown woman, after all! _

"I know how to straighten you out." He sneered, drawing his gaze away from her to the men restraining her.

"The Boo Box."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The words felt wonderfully sweet. Oh, how Hook loved to submit unruly individuals to the box.

_Never a lady though..._

He almost regretted his decision, but Maggie kicked out again, this time coming frightfully close to his 'personals.'

"_There's a first for everything." _Hook thought. Even the crewmen seemed surprised. They looked at one another, and then back to their captain. The incredible sneer they saw on his face confirmed their question. Together, they hauled Maggie up off her feet and carried her away. Hook followed a bit behind, proudly raising his hands up as he went. This prompted the obnoxious crew to chant and cheer as they fell into a march, following closely.

"Put me down! This is bullshit!" Maggie rambled heatedly, her struggles feeble against the clutches of the pirates. A handful of men had already gathered around the ominous box. "BOOOOO!" They sung. The lid was opened up and they proceeded to place Maggie inside. She kicked wildly again, her boot colliding with one of the men's noses, cracking it loudly. He yelped and fell back into the crowd. "Eat shit!" Maggie triumphantly screeched. An array of dirty and calloused hands shot down and clutched her legs, pressing them into the box. She made time for one last swipe, scratching another man's face. The fellow barked, reaching for his cheek. By now, Maggie had been completely detained. Creaking, the lid then came down, the light starting to cut out around her.

"Oh, and go easy on her. Nothing poisonous. Just the things that pinch." Hook's smile was wide. As the lid continued down, Maggie watched the captain wave to her with his fingertips. Then all was dark. Only the musty wood of the chest kept her company.

She heard stomps and muted laughter from the horde outside. The sound of a bucket crashed down close, making her turn her head in that direction.

Her breathing was heavy and exhausted, suppressed around her now.

She listened to herself, as well as the tromping that went about beyond the box, and waited.

_What is this..._

Suddenly, a ray of light shot in from above. It came from a wooden flap in the lid of the container. The illumination from the sun made it impossible to see anything other than the hand of the man who had opened the unusual tab. Something then filled the void. Something both spindly and round. It made a hollow scraping sound as it was pushed through the hole. It then fell onto her chest. She shrieked in fear. Not knowing what it was made her terribly uneasy. She tilted abruptly, trying to make the thing tumble off of her. She heard it clunk at the base of the box. Craning her neck uncomfortably, she looked to see. Before she had time to make out what it was, she felt another thing pelt her from above. Then another, and another. Whatever it was, it was alarmingly blunt and heavy. She had counted around eight that had been dropped in.

Her frightened whimpers were amplified in the box, making her feel terribly claustrophobic. Suddenly, sharp pain ran through her thumb. It was an immediate and hot ache. She yanked her arm up, but it was much heavier than usual. The throb in her thumb became much worse as she pulled. Then she saw it. Clamped onto the pad of her thumb was a light red crab. It's body was roughly the size of her palm. It was fairly reminiscent to the ones she'd see at the grocery store. It had its large claw was pressed down, and didn't look as if it'd let up anytime soon.

Maggie was hardly aware of her chorus of screams, as she frantically writhed. She used her free hand to tear at the crab's pincers, attempting to pull them apart and free herself. It was terrifyingly impossible. It hardly budged as her fingers yanked. She started to feel parts of her clothing become taut, as more of the crabs grabbed onto her. Some had only managed to snag bits of her shirt, but others had managed to nip at parts of her flesh as well. The pain was immediate and unbearable. Maggie continued to scream, her panic rising at an alarming speed. There was hardly time for thinking, what with the sound of the hard legs clacking and dragging all around her.

"OK OK! Let me out!" She had absolutely no idea what else to do. Her hand pounded the top of the Boo Box. She was in undeniable terror, reluctantly anticipating the next tinge of pain that may come.

"Alright, alright." Hook announced. "This is just too cruel!" Hook smiled apologetically, looking around to meet the faces of his crew. They all laughed in agreement.

It felt like it had taken forever for the lid to finally lift back up, it's hinges groaning. The sunshine rushed in and hit Maggie's eyes. The sting hardly registered, what with her current situation, but her eyes quickly teared up, making it futile to try and focus.

"Dump the poor girl." Hook demanded.

The brutes in charge of the box tilted it with haste, sending Maggie rolling out across the deck. Boots stomped back as she went. She then came to a stop, laying on her stomach. The crabs were plucked off of her and returned to their bucket quite quickly by a small team of pirates.

"Back ya go!" One of them chortled at the crustacean from Maggie's thumb. "Last bit of fun you'll be gettin' before dinner time!" His voice faded as he moved through the crowd, the others joining in and carrying what was left of the shellfish gang.

Hook strode up to Maggie, his shiny black and red heels before her head. He knelt down. "Such an unfortunate turn of events!"

Maggie curled up a bit, legs to her chest, face hidden by her messy hair. She cradled her injured hand beneath her. "Fugoff." Came a mumble.

"What was that?" Hook asked in a sarcastically demure way. He gently removed the hair from her face with his hook, revealing the streak of tears on her cheek from the momentarily blinding only moments ago. He assumed she had been weeping. For a moment he felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

The Boo Box was probably an incredibly dramatic choice, but Maggie had proven to be a bit of a handful. Maybe it would put her in her place. Oh, how he hated to make girls cry!

Hook had never truly felt challenged by a young lady, other than by the famous Wendy Darling. Even in the face of danger, she at least had incredible manners and poise. It was simple to be a gentleman around that girl. She was an ideal prisoner! However, he found himself struggling with Maggie. She lacked that 'Darling Family' charm. She was more like a feral cat.

"Perhaps you've had enough excitement for one day?" Hook asked.

Nothing but a tiny, frustrated whimper came from the girl.

Hook clicked his tongue again, "Yes, I'd say so. Smee? Could you show the lady to her room?" Hook turned to look at his faithful bo'sun. Smee's nose was a fearsome red, but the bleeding had at least ceased. He was careful not to roll his eyes at Hook. Frankly, he didn't want anything to do with Maggie anymore. Today had been more than enough of a romp for him.

Maggie felt herself being lifted up. Her arm was pulled over Smee's shoulder, his hand holding her in place. "This way, ma'am."


	14. Chapter 14

_I actually want to start this off with a little personal note!_

_I've NEVER shared fanfiction online, nor have I ever really gotten into any one fandom enough to be inspired to write something. This has been a really great experience, and it totally surprised me. All of the interactions from you readers has made this something I really look forward to writing. You truly are the cause that keeps me motivated to work on this! Without the kind comments and encouraging messages, this would have easily been a one-off short story, lost and collecting dust in an obscure folder on my computer. As a matter of fact, because of the random Hook x Maggie fanart I posted to my DA page, people asked for a link to the story, and frankly, it only existed in my head at the time! As passing daydreams! So, to everybody who has shown interest, this story exists and continues to unfold because of you and your inspiring enthusiasm! _

_I'd really like to give my most heartfelt thank you to all of you for subbing and sticking with me on this little journey of sorts! Here's to many more Neverland adventures!_

Chapter 14

The room which Smee presented to Maggie, or more or less plopped her into before turning tail and leaving quite quickly, was small and creaky, but somewhat furnished. She heard him heading for the door, and found it hard to convince herself to bother talking to him. In truth she wanted to lie down and fall into some serious sleep. The idea of even opening her mouth seemed far too taxing. The simple bed in the corner called out to her, a hazy ray of sunlight hovering over the quilted bedding, pointing. Beckoning. Her intense connection with the bed was broken when she heard the rattling of Smee locking the door behind her. She turned to observe, and caught the final motions of the spotty gold knob jostling a bit before it stopped, followed by Smee's footfalls plodding away.

She had been taken to the second story of a rather worn out building, a block or so away from the Jolly Roger. They had gone up an uncomfortable flight of stairs to get there. Her legs had cramped up, finally calling it quits for the day, and she could feel their disgruntled aches with each step she took. They were like cement blocks beneath her, her weight becoming an absolute burden to carry for much longer.

Maggie could hear voices from outside. She slowly made her way to the window, and rested her palms on the worn out sill. She looked down into the busy street below, observing the tops of hat clad heads, decorated with grungy feathers, going by. There were many curious people out there, all going about their apparent business. Though, whatever that was, none of these 'citizens' of Pirate Town looked to be incredibly reliable, like a ton of teenagers dragging out a day at a retail gig. _What do these shits do all day anyway?_ She looked farther out and saw the Jolly Roger gently rocking on the water. Maggie frowned, thinking about how Hook must be striding around on the ship, patting himself on the back for the hell he had successfully put her through. From this room, however, Maggie could almost pretend he didn't even exist. Perhaps she wouldn't even have to see him again. Sleep all of this weirdness away. Wake up in her apartment with a dry mouth and a dizzy head.

"Whaaat the fuck ever." Maggie groggily mumbled as she finally trudged her way to the bed. She popped her boots off using her toes, wincing a bit as she did so. She successfully removed the shoes and left them laying helpless on the wooden floor. Then, feeling as if it were the one thing she had ever truly wanted, she fell onto the bed. A tuft of dust billowed out around her, sending little flecks floating into the warm ray of sunlight that came through the window. She exhaled, with an audible moan. Every part of her relaxed. The blankets were cool against her hot, swollen feet and aching legs. It was almost euphoric. She fell into a deep slumber only mere seconds later.

**Meanwhile, In Seattle:**

Rosie opened up the trash bin and tossed in the remains of her devoured TV Dinner. She had been running low on groceries for a decent meal come lunch, but had several low cal frozen dinners hiding in her freezer. They tasted like ripe shit, but she'd have to restock her cupboards after work. There were a handful of patients scheduled today, leaving her little to no time to dawdle. She sped walked back to her office, pulling the bobby pins out of her hair as she went. It was getting frightfully nippy out, and they had neglected to turn the heat up in the building that morning. Her ears felt like little ice chips. _Hair down it is then!_

The metal sill of her large office window was lined with various, thick leaved house plants and a collection of resin frogs. Rosie adored frogs. If you took a look around, you'd easily count around thirty or so, of all types, placed around her office. It had gotten a bit out of control, and was more of a joke with her friends and coworkers now. There wasn't a birthday or Christmas that went by where everybody would go out looking for frog themed things to gift her.

Her appointments came and went throughout the early morning, and as nine o'clock rolled around, she was ready for one of her more enjoyable patients. Maggie Banning. Rosie looked forward to her visit more than usual today, seeing as her eight o'clock was Lester, a middle aged man who believed he had a severe case of MPD, one of his alternate personalities being a cocaine snorting hamster.

Nine o'clock quickly became nine thirty. Rosie had arranged her ballpoint pens twice now, and sat, gazing at her analog desk clock blankly. "Where in the world is that girl...?" She flipped through her appointment journal to make sure she had the time right. Indeed, Maggie had been jotted down for nine sharp. For a moment, Rosie reluctantly thought that perhaps Maggie had relapsed. As much as she hated to assume the worst, many people with similar problems had a rough time climbing out of the theoretical hole they had fallen into. Rosie's patients would sometimes just stop coming altogether. No closure provided. People that once sat in her office to hash out their addictions would soon throw in the towel, never to return to the frog infested office ever again. It was unfortunate, but not uncommon. She wanted to have all the faith in the world for each of her patients, especially the lost young ones. She had been one herself once.

Rosie began to lock up for the night but there was just something so odd to her about the no-show on Maggie's part. She knew she was alone out here, her parents living several states over. If anything, Rosie felt it best to dig up Maggie's emergency contacts and pass along that she had been absent. Rosie got back into her office, pulled open her file drawer, and removed Maggie's folder. Peter and Moira Banning were listed in her contacts. She dialed them right away.

"Hello?" A breathlessly hopeful voice answered. It was Moira.

"Hi there, this is Rosie Leesand. I'm calling about your daughter, Maggie?"

Moira cut in right away, a bit frantic, "Oh yes, do you have any idea where she is?"

"Unfortunately I don't! I was calling to let you know she didn't show up for her appointment with me today."

"...Ohh no. No. Where could she be then?"

"So, she hasn't contacted you? We met up last week, and she seemed in good spirits when she left. I was worried when she didn't come in today." Rosie replied.

"Yes, she called me after her appointment last week. We talked about her coming over and I've been trying her on her phone all day...She was supposed to be here by now! God, Rosie, please. Could you go to her apartment for me? Please! I'm so incredibly worried..." Moira's voice wavered.

Rosie hesitated a second, "Ah, yea. Yea. I can do that. I have her address on file, I'll see what's going on and get back to you right away." Rosie hadn't intended to get so involved, but at the same time, it was worrisome that this was unusual to Maggie's mother. Rosie was the only one close enough that knew her to go check in. She wasn't going to sleep tonight knowing Moira was in shambles. She didn't know her personally, but she remembered the hell she had put her own mother through in her younger days. She felt this was a responsible move.

"Thank you so much, Rosie, really. Truly."

Rosie pulled into an unmarked parking spot at the Evergreen Creek apartment complex. In the 330F space sat Maggie's Honda. _Must be home_. Rosie trotted across the freshly tarred pavement, and up the staircase. A dirty welcome mat lay crooked in front of Maggie's door. It read, "Nice Underwear."

Rosie rapped on the door and waited. Nothing. She tried again, but was greeted with similar silence. She was about to leave, when somebody spoke, "Do you know the girl who lives here?" The irritated voice came from behind her. Rosie squawked and spun around. "OH! My gosh." She lightly placed her hand up to her heart. "Yes, I do. Do you know where she might be?"

"No! She's my upstairs neighbor! She destroyed her window the other night, scared the shit out of all of us! We swear we saw somebody fall from up there! Bunch of drunken idiots." The irate woman spoke. "Listen, whatever the hell she's doing in there, can you tell her the next time any of that weird shit happens again, I'm calling the cops! I already reported her to the office."

"Y-yea. I'll pass that-" but the woman had already retreated back down a flight of stairs. "-Along." Rosie spoke quietly to herself.

Rosie was curious about the window. She went back down to the base of the complex and walked around to the backyard. She looked up to the third floor and saw that the window was indeed shattered. Glass fragments lay scattered in the grass and bushes below. "What the hell happened...?" Rosie felt a wave of concern. Maggie didn't seem like the vandalizing type. This certainly didn't look like the work of an intruder either, what with it being so high up. _What DID happen?_

Rosie got out her cell, and unfolded the photocopy of the Banning's number. "Moira? I think we may have a problem."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Hook sat at his desk, perched on the edge of his seat, glancing at Maggie's paperwork. After the ruckus on deck, he had Smee grab everything up and bring it to the cabin for safe keeping. He wanted to look over everything again, but more thoroughly this time. The information had seemed so discouraging at first, but after getting such an overwhelming dosage of the girl, he felt the need to be a bit more intimate with her personal reports. Who was she really? What made her tick? His intrigue with her was driven by pure curiosity at this point. She baffled him.

"Cap'n?"

Hook glanced up, surprised. He had been deeply invested in thought, blankly staring into a document headed '_Harborview Medical Center'_. "What is it?" he answered.

"I was just sayin', what do y'spose you'll do with her?" Smee replied, inquisitively.

Hook thought about it for a moment. He truly hadn't a clue. He went from sympathy, to distaste, to absolute disgust, and then made a full 360 back to sympathy in under an hour of meeting this adult Maggie. He had never experienced such an emotional flip flop like that before. Now he wasn't even sure how he felt about the entire situation.

Smee plopped down on an intricately detailed brocade footstool near Hook's desk. "She sure is a lovely thing..." he mused. The pudgy man had yet again found the photo of Maggie and was now starring down at it, a dreamy expression lazily painted upon his face.

"You're a twisted little man. Give me that." Hook leaned over and snatched the picture out of Smee's dry fingertips. He accidentally looked at the photo. His gaze became tangled in the soft curves before him. A very subtle, warm, rush made its way from the pit of his stomach to his groin. Though, just as quickly as it happened, it soured within a blur of embarrassment. He could feel pressure on his eyes as he reluctantly tore them away from the image, directing his attention back to Smee. "Have you forgotten about that already?" Hook pointed his claw at Smee's bruised nose.

Smee reached up to feel his purple tinted nostrils. "It don' even hurt!"

"Right." Hook's eyelids lifted amusingly, as he turned back to his desk. He pulled open a thin drawer and dropped the notoriously carnal photograph inside. He then reclined back, resting an elbow on the arm of his elaborate chair. He placed his chin atop his gloved hand and exhaled deeply. "What to do, indeed." His eyes darted around the luxe cabin. "She's neither useful nor any kind of...opponent."

"Opponent?" Smee looked up to his captain.

"Even while Pan was gone, I had the occasional threat of that horrendous Rufio." Hook replayed the final moments of that battle in his mind. How frightfully simply that boy fell. Pathetic. All looks, all talk. Too consumed with pride and wanting to look good in front of his Lost Boys. A showman at best. Not a worthy opponent whatsoever. Nothing compared to Peter. "Yet he had so much potential..." Hook continued to reminisce.

Smee grew quiet, considering what options they might have, when he lit up a bit, "Ye' could do a round two of last time n' try to make the girl love ya! It'd be a whole lot different this time, if ya know what I'm sayin!" He chortled, waggling his eyebrows.

Hook couldn't help but erupt into laughter. "Yes, James Hook and Maggie Banning. Romance of the century. Send a wedding invitation to Peter, adorned with lovely little rose petals!" He snorted his way through the last word, now hunching over in his chair. Smee absolutely lost it and tumbled backwards off the foot rest with a thud. He lay on the oriental rug coughing and giggling uncontrollably. "I can see it now! _We cordially invite you to partake in our ceremony of eternal love! Dancing, merriment, and an array delightful cheeses!_" He dramatically swept his hand through the air as he spoke.

Hook bellowed, pounding his steel hand on his desk repeatedly, his face completely flush. "S-STOP!" He tried to breathe, tears forming in his eyes now. "How absolutely idiotic is that?" His voice drowning in amusement. Smee had rolled to one side now and was trying to push himself up when he suddenly whipped his head over to Hook, eyes wide, and a mischievous smile in place, "Ahhh Peter! I let Maggie unsheathe my sword for me nowadays!" Smee hardly managed the sentence, speaking in his best Captain James impression.

Hook threw his head back, hitting the solid wood of his chair quite uncomfortably, but he was in such a daze from all the laughter that he hardly noticed. "I...I can't! You horrible bastard!" A tear finally cascaded down his cheek. He wiped it away with his gloved hand. Catching his breath and sighing exhaustedly, he cleared his throat. It was quiet for a moment, that is, until Hook perked up and looked to Smee once more with the same obnoxious kind of smile, "Peter! My good friend! Maggie would like to thank you, from the bottom of her heart, for keeping my other hand intact!" Hook formed a foul hand gesture. He bit his bottom lip to restrain himself from going full blown toothy smile.

Smee screamed and fell right back down, kicking his jolly little legs about. "A good hand indeed! Sometimes she quite likes the hook too!" He retorted exuberantly.

Both men howled like immature young boys, not even able to look at each other without having another fit.

Soon after, and much deflated from the uproarious riot, they simply sat. Neither had laughed that much in what felt like decades. It became apparent to both of them how close they actually were. Best friends, no doubt. Sometimes Hook was far too strained to see it most days, but in truth, Smee was his rock. Nobody got him like Smee did. He was the only person Hook never wanted to dole out harm to either, which was saying a lot, considering.

"Smee. As amusing as that was..." Hook struggled. "That idea isn't actually half bad."

"Say what?" Smee craned his neck. Was he delusional? All that laughing must have cut off oxygen to his poor captains' brain.

"I'm sorry, let me specify. What I mean to say is, getting her on our good side might be a worthwhile investment. For now, anyway. Soften her up a bit." Hook smirked.

"A little woo'in, eh? Well, it sure beats the alternative. She might end up with the Lost Boys if you go pissin' her off more."

Hook rubbed his chin, letting the ideas seep in. He then retracted his gaze to the paperwork on the desk, threw his claw down and dragged a document towards him. "I have the upper hand, Smee. I know her weaknesses." He smiled. "There's one thing we have here that the Lost Boys don't." Hook smiled mischievously.

"What's that?"

"Booze."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The docks were busy and crowded. Maggie was trying to keep herself small, weaving in and out of the pulsing sea of people. Everybody was wearing their strange seadog getups, and forcefully pushed past her as they came and went. There was a break in the cluster, and Maggie took to the center of the calmer location. The dock was below her feet, creaking quietly.

She looked around. It seemed overpopulated here. Overwhelming and dizzying numbers of people looked like a odd patchwork blanket, their heads bobbing like a body of water. As the tacky building fronts ended, she saw the beginnings of a food court, and noted the morphing gradient of the ground becoming an oddly checkered linoleum. She wandered towards the jarringly different setting.

Her feet tapped lightly on the new flooring. Peering back behind her, Maggie saw that the pirate town still remained, only yards beyond. It was like two different worlds had been violently smashed together. A mixture of people now entered and combined with the grungy Neverland regulars. Mall walkers were bustling all around, their chatty conversations muffled by the echoes of squeaky and clacky footsteps.

"Over here!" Called a familiar voice. Maggie looked in the direction of the call, and saw her mother waving to her. She was seated at a smoothie bar, atop a gaudy orange pleather stool. Maggie approached, incredibly relived to see her mother.

"I've got a little extra today. You should order something, darling." Moira spoke, blissfully.

Maggie peered up to the menu and saw a jumbled mess of drink names. Pictured in the bottom right corner of the board was a slightly horrifying cartoon orange with arms and legs. It smiled down at her, with a talk bubble that said, "Juice makes you poop!"

"Mom, do you fucking see this?" Maggie snorted.

"Just order something!" Moira said, dismissing her daughters comment.

A woman appeared at the register now. She looked incredibly displeased to be there, and began to tap her fingers on the counter. Maggie had no idea what to order, but insisted on taking the odd mascot conversation further. "So what's with the fruit dude? Do you do a lot of poopin'? "

"What?" The girls face contorted into a grimace.

"The orange guy!" Maggie looked back to the board and saw that the mascot was now a cute koala with a smoothie, exclaiming, "Don't miss strawberry season!"

Maggie grew flush in her embarrassment and confusion. "Sorry. It was different..."

"Whatever, what do you want? We have a lo mein special." The girl mumbled.

"I...What? No-" she tried to reply but was cut off quickly.

"If you get that, you get a coupon for New Navy, %10 off summer slacks."

"No...no thanks. Just a mango smoothie? I guess? You do have those, right?" Maggie rambled, growing ever more uncomfortable.

"Yea, what's your e-mail and zip code?"

Maggie was now frustrated. "Is that a 'no' on the smoothie then?"

"Maggie, dear, this isn't where you get food." Moira chimed in.

Maggie heard the alarming crash of bowling pins and spun around. The mall had disappeared while her back was turned, apparently. She now stood in a very shabby bowling alley. She saw pirates running up the aisles, throwing what looked to be greasy, meaty drumsticks down the lane. Turning back to the register, Maggie was now looking at with the bartender from the Drunken Wench saloon. His eye patch embroidered with a "Great Northwest Lanes!" logo.

"What size?" He growled.

"...7." Maggie answered cautiously. The grumpy gent bent down, rustled his hands in some cubbies below, and returned. He slid a pair of bright pink high heels across the counter.

"I can't play in these, you freak." Maggie scoffed at the obnoxious footwear before her.

"That's what you get." He glared, spit over the desk, and then began disinfecting pairs of actual bowling shoes, spray bottle in hand, dismissing Maggie entirely.

Moira and Maggie began walking to their lane, the ugly 90's confetti blue and orange party carpet beneath them.

"So, anyway, I was thinking maybe we shouldn't let Jack go to space. Do you know the first thing about space? I doubt you do. I doubt any of us do." Maggie spoke with confidence on the topic.

"I feel like it'd be good for him." Moira replied.

"Hell, I suppose it's the only way to escape Rene. Though...what if she finds him? You know what they say." Maggie's brow raised as she smirked at her mother.

"...What do they say?"

"In space. Nobody can hear you scream." Maggie had mere seconds to register a figure closing in on her, and as she looked away from her mother, she found herself, once again, face to face with Captain Hook. She screamed.

"Save it for space." He growled, amusingly.

Maggie remembered the shoes she was holding, and tried her best to move them out of sight. _Fucking embarrassing shit._"Can I help you?" Maggie felt dizzy nervousness wash over her, but tried to keep her composure.

"Ah! This must be the lovely Miss Banning, I presume?" Hook was now ignoring Maggie, directing his attention to her mother. "Peter and I go way back." Hook's eyes sparkled as he spoke, his toothy smile quite wide.

"Oh! Why, he's never spoke of you!" She exclaimed, smiling kindly, but looking rather confused.

"This asshole is the one that kidnapped Jack and I- remember? Grandma Wendy's?" Maggie spat.

"Language, dear!" Her mother snapped, quietly. "Why , I suggest you come stay with us this Christmas, yes? I'm sure Peter would love to see an old friend!"

Maggie's jaw dropped.

"What a generous offer. I admit, that would be rather nice." Hook stopped briefly. His eyes darted to Maggie, "I'd kill to catch up with your family." His face grew a tad sinister, yet somehow managed an intriguing charm.

"MOM." Maggie belted.

"You can stay in Maggie's old room." Her mother continued.

"NO. That is not going to be a thing!" Maggie felt her face get painfully hot as her anger rose.

Moira and Hook had started walking away now, still talking, incoherent mumbles to Maggie's ears. The scene was odd and only enraged her more. "MOM!" She yelled out in a demanding tone. "MOM! Get the fuck back here!" Yelling and yelling. Her mother acted as though she couldn't hear her. Maggie kept on, louder and louder. "MOM!"

"Would'de knock that off? I'm not your damn mother!"

Maggie heard the voice, loud and surreal, all around her. She felt herself go weightless. A pulling sensation from behind her eyes. Darkness. Her mind buzzed. Smells of dust and musty wood registered. She gasped with a sleepy inhale, quite surprised, and absolutely disoriented. "Hmmwha-?" Her eyes squinted in the dim light of the room. She licked her lips and groggily turned her head. Pain registered in her neck. A swift stinging kicked in. She winced.

Maggie lay upon the soft bed she had collapsed on earlier, the memories of her getting there very slowly seeping back into her brain.

"S'time to get'cha up. You've got to get yourself ready." It was Smee. He had entered the room mere seconds ago, a key ring jingling in his plump fist.

"Ready- for what...?" Maggie yawned.

"Captain's throwin' a shindig in town, n' you're to be there!" He spoke, bending down for her discarded boots. Maggie only rubbed her weak eyelids, the pressure of her fingers rousing them to stay open.

"Up n' at'em. Let's go, lady." He hurried her, placing the suede shoes at the base of her bed. Maggie yawned again and pushed herself up. She pulled her legs in and sat, very childlike, for a moment. "Mmph." She whined, lazily.

Smee's eyes looked her over. He stopped, and spoke, sounding mildly horrified, "You look like you've been rolling in the brambles."

Maggie felt her hair. As if it weren't already tangled from the forest adventures earlier, her hard nap certainly did it no favors. She could feel the knots and bits of twigs wrapped up in cocoons of her long locks. Her fingertips stopped abruptly as she ran her hand through the matted 'do'. She exhaled, loose lipped.

"Better address all of that I suppose." Smee said flatly. "Come, let's take you to see Drusilla."

"Dru-who?" Maggie squinted, as she finally slipped her feet over the side of the bed. She lowered them into the boots below, and looked up to Smee. "Fuckin' waking me up, man, I'm so goddamn tired...What are you even talking about?" She spoke in an incoherent tired ramble.

With great frustration, Smee exhaled and threw his arms up, "No point in explaining this to you now, just c'mon, you'll see when we get there."

The trip down the flight of stairs was an interesting one. Maggie's body had enjoyed the nap thoroughly, but during that time, her muscles had tensed up all over, and were now incredibly tender. Each step was a delicate matter. Smee shot her many irritated looks as she lagged behind him.

"I'm going as fast as a I can, dude." Maggie replied, with a hint of snarkiness.

The sun was now crouched below the mountains, only peeking out, and casting a weak light. It was a warm colored sky, and the darkness was setting in delicately. People wandered about, hints of conversations sweeping near Maggie's ears as they passed. Eyes were drawn to her, the odd woman in her teal and denim ensemble. She avoided as much eye contact as possible, and concentrated on keeping up with the Captain's lackey.

They soon arrived at an odd ship-turned-building. It's red, chipped siding was slightly curved, and spotted with crooked windows. In each, colorful satin curtains rustled in the evening breeze. The frighteningly old redhead Maggie had seen in passing suddenly appeared, cramming her head out of the second story window. Her wrinkly chest smooshed on the sill, "SMEE!" She yelped, her crooked smile full of joy. Smee waved a hearty arm her way and bounced up the planks steps to the doorway. Maggie looked up again but the gaudy golden girl had already sucked herself back into the building and away from the window. More cries came from inside, happily greeting Smee.

"Sweet Jesus." Maggie mumbled, and proceed up the stairway as well, into the mysterious indoors ahead.


	17. Chapter 17

**Note:**

_I did a bit of an overhaul on fixes/character development this week. My own worries on Jack, Peter and Rene were met with similar concerns from some other readers, so I'm feeling a lot better with the changes- it was kinda messy when I started this (improvisation ftw...). The changes made had to be carried out through the remaining chapters for consistency, so there have been a lot of updates- Chapter 11 receiving the brunt of them. Even little tweaks were made due to my writing style changing as I write this (getting much more comfortable with this as I go!). Hopefully now everything is coherent and just generally better! If you feel like it, you might give this story another pass over to update your visuals, haha! Otherwise, take with you this info as you continue reading: Rene is a lot less horribly obnoxious, but still an unfaithful turd sack (Rene Fan Club, tba, ha!), Jack needed more TLC, for sure- so he's a successful fella who is generally worried about Maggie. (not sure why I shafted him right off the bat, so- fixed!) Peter is more involved/caring with the given situations as well. I think that's about it. Mostly family things! Hook x Maggie is still the same (cleaned up Maggie's dialogue a bit, anyway). _

_Also! Not that it's going to happen SOON soon, but, fair warning- I've labeled this story as mature as possible from the get go, because I plan to have several scenes of a sexual nature in the future. For those of you super not on board with that- just telling you now that it's imminent! Hope that's not discouraging! _

_Fans of sexy time, prepare. Aw yiss._

_Oh, and lots of requests for longer chapters- so, ch 17 is lengthy! Hope you dig it!_

_Alright guys, back to it then! Enjoy! Thanks, as always, for sticking around and reading! I appreciate it so very very much!_

Chapter 17

The room that greeted Maggie was gaudy, to best describe it. An elegant gold chandelier hung, a tad crooked, from the ceiling, only a small handful of its candles lit. The walls were lined with vibrant scarves, busy wallpapers, and odd oil paintings. Eclectic furniture was settled about in a frumpy manner, their cushions all an array of different, velvety colors. Draped upon the backs of the couches were taffeta dresses and various accessories. As Maggie observed more of the room she saw an antique vanity table, its mirror speckled with an array of red kiss marks. Its counter was covered with giant powder puffs, blush tins, and ornate hair decorations.

"A party!?" A shrill voice came from around the corner in another outlet of the room. Maggie stared intently, waiting for more. She couldn't make out the conversation until-

"Hmph! I see." The sound of heels now audible. They got louder.

"The captain would appreciate it greatly." Smee's voice came after, following the approaching woman.

"I'm sure we have _something_." She appeared then, at the tart pronunciation of 'something'. She was thin, with a large bust protruding from a tightly fitted corset. She had on a loose fitting dress slip that went down to her calves. Puffy pantaloons could be seen beneath. Her hair was done up in a bun, flattened from being pressed under a wig all day. She had naturally pale blonde hair already, but the wig Maggie had seen her in earlier was placed on a wig stand near the vanity.

Drusilla stopped with a stomping clack of her heel in front of Maggie. She looked her up and down with an obvious sneer perched on her upper lip. Their eyes finally met, and the sneer softened up a tad, "You're an absolute mess!" She gawked. Drusilla had no idea who this girl was or where she came from, but she was quick to jump to an assumption. She was being replaced. Smee didn't share many details, but what else was there to think?

"Thank you." Maggie said, with a severe lack of enthusiasm.

"You are in serious need of a bath." Her voice was light and pompous. "This way." Drusilla took off upstairs. Each step creaked and groaned beneath the thick red carpeting. Maggie kept on after the campy woman, feeling absolutely stupid about the entire situation. As always, this was just too much to really take in.

_Just roll with it...I'd actually kill for a bath, anyway._

The top of the stairs led out into a very narrow hallway, and Drusilla came to a swift stop and pushed open a stubborn, dilapidated door, it's hinges jostling as it swung. She immediately walked in. Maggie followed as far as the doorway, her mind blurring with blurbs of slight hesitation. "Uhm." She was going to attempt a question, but Drusilla spun around, a towel in her arms now. She threw it down on a little wrought iron bench by the porcelain basin.

"Get in here." She waved her arms at Maggie, looking slightly irritated.

The bathroom was small and dainty. It's overall color scheme seemed to be white and blue. It was pseudo nautical, which was a nice coincidence for their location. It had simple wooden paneled walls, which were painted white, but cracking. The floor was messily tiled, but managed to look strangely elegant. Near the old tub was a window with a view to the docks. The building was close enough that Maggie could see heads bobbing around on the Jolly Roger's deck. She couldn't help but look for the black and gold feathered hat of-

"Strip down." Drusilla lackadaisically prompted.

"O-oh. Just. Right now? Naked?" Maggie suddenly felt like part of her brain had just turned off. _Idiot._

Drusilla sighed so loudly that it sounded painful. She shook her head a bit and crossed her arms.

"Right." Maggie nodded, hesitated, and then began to peel off her top. "Can you...close the curtains there?" Her torso now exposed. God forbid she put on a show for the crew on the Jolly Roger.

Drusilla rolled her eyes ever so slightly, and nearly floated to the window. "Of course." She pulled the curtains swiftly, the metal loops swishing violently across the bar. Maggie jumped at the sound.

"'Preciate it." Maggie mumbled. She continued removing her clothes, with much reluctance. It was especially hard with Drusilla refusing to give her a moment of privacy.

_Dammit_. Maggie was beautiful. Her hips were softly curved, leading down to a pleasant gap between her thighs. Drusilla's heart actually hurt from looking at the girl. _Has Hook even seen her yet...?_ _Like this? Stop, stop._ Her mind was running wild, her jealousy seething. This was absolute torture. She finally pulled her gaze away and made her way over to the furnace in the corner of the small room. A wooden bucket sat atop, warm water within it. She heaved up, holding onto the rope handles on its sides, and slowly walked it over to the tub.

Maggie sat with her knees up, covering her chest. Her legs stayed tightly closed together. _This is so fucking weird. _Then the water came. It was incredibly warm. Almost too warm. It sloshed up the sides of the tub, and splashed up into her face a little.

"Woo!" Maggie exclaimed. "Hot hot hot." She lifted her arms out and rested them on the side of the tub. "Phoo..." She acclimated quickly enough, and by the time Drusilla had finally filled the tub, the water had become a very soothing temperature.

_Holy shit, yes._

After the hell Maggie had been through, this was incredibly necessary. Regardless of a weird, cranky, stranger of a woman seeing her in the buff. It could be worse.

Maggie rested her head back and let out a comfortable, happy sigh. "Thissss..." She closed her eyes. She could hear Drusilla moving around the room, but hardly cared as to what she was doing. Then the sound of the wrought iron bench piped up loudly and scrapped across the floor towards her. Maggie was curious now. She cracked an eyelid open and stole a gaze. Drusilla had moved the seat directly behind the tub, where Maggie's head rested. In her hand was a comb.

"Wet your hair." More dry commands.

Maggie didn't bother to argue. She dipped her head in, the heat intense on her ears. Maggie's hair was incredibly long. She had never been one to cut it, and at this point never wanted to. She enjoyed its length, even though she was prone to leave it hanging or in a braid since it was far too much to want to deal with most days.

As Maggie wet her hair she could feel the lumps of tangles and bits of forest that remained from her trek outdoors earlier that morning. She lifted her head back up, and squeezed the long rope of wet hair. "Here?" She awkwardly passed it off to Drusilla, who sat waiting to take care of it.

Drusilla opted out of being gentle. She sternly yanked the brush through Maggie's hair. _Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow..._

The woman's body language prompted Maggie to keep her mouth shut, so she decided to sit as still as possible and wait for it to be over. The further up Drusilla got, the more it hurt. She was sure her hair was still very much intact, but it was generally unpleasant. _Don't sass her. She might make it worse._

Maggie decided to direct her attention to her wounds. She studied her legs and saw a handful of purple bruises, and red scrapes. She lifted her feet up and worked her thumbs over the muscles. Her feet had threatened to cramp the entire walk here. Mid rub, she felt a severe tinge of pain and quickly lifted her hand out of the water. Her thumb. So much of her body had been so terribly achy, that she had actually forgotten about it. Looking at the bruised and gnawed up digit, she could feel the pincers vividly, all over again.

"There." Drusilla announced. She stood up quite quickly and walked away, returning almost immediately with a sponge this time. She tossed it into the tub where it slapped the water and floated on the surface, looking sad and defeated somehow. Maggie stared down at it, and then up at Drusilla.

"When you're done, come downstairs. I'll have an outfit picked out for you." Then she exited the room, slamming the rickety door with some force, and then stomping down the hall, to the stairs.

Maggie sat in the odd silence of the dripping, clopping water, as she moved her limbs about. Once she was more or less done bathing, she rested there, reclined and too lethargic to get out. She casually peeked out the window, peeling back the curtain a little bit. As if her eyes were fooling her, the very first thing she spotted was the black and gold feathered hat. _Oh geeze._

It appeared Hook was making his way, with some haste, across the deck.

"Hey, jerk off. What are you doing..." Maggie mused to herself, squinting as she watched.

Maggie was glued to the scene. She kept watching, not entirely sure what she was waiting to see. She found herself thinking about what took place on the deck. That whole scene had been so bizarre. Was she scared of him? Mad at him? Both? Perhaps she wasn't either of those things.

_"Be careful, now." _

His voice replayed in her mind. She was overcome with a rush of adrenaline, a giddiness twisting through her gut. She caught her breath as she found herself suddenly needing to inhale. Her heart pounded.

A bang at the door.

"Maggie?" It was Smee.

"...Yea?" She replied uncertainly.

"You 'bout done in there? Drusilla is waiting on ya."

"Ah, yep. I'll be right out." She began to hurry out of the tub, dry off, and throw on her matted clothes.

Maggie had made her way back downstairs. Drusilla was nowhere to be seen. Maggie decided to take a seat while she waited for her. She was halfway through lowering herself down onto the only spotless part of the couch cushion, when Drusilla's voice called out from a small walk in closet in the entry room, "Not there!" _How the hell. _Maggie wobbly shot back up before landing and leaned against the arm instead. She peered back into the other room, seeing what Smee was up to. He was no longer there. Footsteps could be heard from upstairs, along with faint giggles from the red headed crypt keeper. _He must be 'socializing'. "_Blegh." Maggie flicked her tongue out and grimaced.

Drusilla emerged from the closet, her face barely visible from behind the poof that was the retrieved dress. It was a gross combination of brown and muted sea foam green stripes. It had thick yellowed lace dangling from its mid arm bell sleeves, and a horrendous bustle made from a darker green paisley brocade. Drusilla dropped it into a light fluffy pile at Maggie's feet, smiled at her, and turned to the vanity. "Now! Makeup. What to do with you..." She quietly hummed to herself.

Maggie stared down at the monster of a dress, horrified. "Wow. It's so. Big." Tone completely flat. She kicked at it with her foot, and it _'shhhd' _lazily. An unfortunate pile of slinky fabrics, indeed.

Drusilla shot up with haste, "Come!" As if she had been trying to get Maggie's attention for much longer.

"I...ok. Comin'." Maggie hurriedly replied. _If the dress says anything about where this is going..._

She plopped into the creaky vanity chair and turned to the mirror. Her eyes darted to the pucker lipped Drusilla, who looked at her like she was about to poke her in the eye with the bobby pins in her fist.

"Hmm." Drusilla pursed her mouth, the smirk returning. There was something slightly devious about her expression, and it made Maggie a bit uncomfortable. _What is this chicks damage? _Maggie's complete ignorance on just who this woman was, was bound to cause her quite a bit of trouble. It was a situation that could have been discussed and remedied immediately, but the passive aggressive Drusilla had skipped questioning entirely. She was confident in her assumption, clearly. Maggie, had she known fully what was running through Drusilla's head, would have erupted into howling laughter, but this was, unfortunately, not the case.

Drusilla was still feeling quite bittersweet bout the situation before her. On one hand, her dear Captain had apparently replaced her with this floozy. Second, she had Maggie in her possession for now and could very well take advantage of that. _Oh Drusilla, don't be petty. _It was a battle quickly lost, and she had a hard time hiding her pleased smile. _The Captain will want to toss you overboard when I'm done with you. _

Drusilla yanked up on Maggie's long locks and began pinning wildly. Each pin she pushed in pulled a bit painfully at Maggie's roots.

"O...Ow!" _Not this shit again._

Drusilla smiled bigger. This was fun. "Soooorry, dear."

She couldn't believe it. What could have possibly prompted Hook to seek out a woman like this? Were the pleasant prostitutes of Pirate Town simply not good enough anymore? Why, Drusilla was Hook's right hand lady! He always chose her over the others. He would always call on her to accompany him at any and all gatherings and parties. Drusilla was known for this! So much so, that men would purposely avoid laying with her in fear of upsetting the Captain. She was his.

She supposed Hook never seemed sweet on her, as he was often calm, direct, and stern around her. Never a romantic man, per se. He filled the air with small talk most days, which didn't really tell her much, other than he was comfortable with her. Though, he never put his feelings on display. Everybody in Pirate Town was terrified of him, whether they liked to admit it or not. Even the prostitutes were careful with what they said to him. All of the people in town had seen him strike men down in many an angry outburst. If you upset Hook, he didn't hesitate to throw you in the Boo Box or just simply shoot you.

Drusilla absolutely adored him. She wasn't sure how apparent it was to anybody else, Hook included, but he was her world. She was so pleased to be known as the equivalent of a 'Mrs. Hook', if ever there were one. It gained her a lot of respect in town. He wasn't very enthusiastic with her, but he was simple in his actions. He was gentle, and fairly attentive. She did, however, wish he were more affectionate. When things came to a close, he was always quick to quietly take his leave, never acknowledging what had taken place. She always hoped for just a few more minutes with him every time. Of course, whenever Drusilla thought these things, she'd feel absolutely silly. _It simply wasn't in his nature! _She didn't see Hook all too often anymore, though. He had slowly stopped calling on her. She had noticed him changing, ever so subtly. Ever since Pan left him for a second time, he had kept his full attention on his revenge. If he wasn't pacing about brooding, he was dreaming of brooding. He was more tired these days and very short tempered.

This party would give Drusilla a chance to see him again though, and she'd be damned if Maggie was going to screw that up for her. She'd sort it out soon enough. Drusilla wasn't a bad woman, now. She was just determined to protect what was hers. All Hook needed was a night with her again and he'd go right back to normal.

Drusilla had managed to get all of Maggie's hair up and into a borderline beehive 'do'. "There...OH!" She was almost done. She opened up a drawer in the vanity and picked out the ugliest peahen feathers she had. They had been used so much that they were fairly bare boned. Only the round tip of the feather remained, and what was there, was undeniably smooshed and crooked. The saddest feather anyone ever did see.

Maggie blinked at her reflection, feeling like a ripe idiot. _What the hell is that_.

Drusilla had moved onto makeup now. She took the obnoxiously large powder puff, dabbed it in a chalky white concoction, and began patting Maggie's face with it. The puff hit so light and quick, over and over, that powdery make up made its way up into Maggie's nostrils, making her cough. "Good God..." Followed by her spitting her tongue out. Drusilla kept on until Maggie was as pale as a ghost. Next came the blush.

Maggie brushed off her eyelashes and opened her lids. _Yikes. _It was frighteningly pale. Drusilla came at her now with a wet makeup brush, caked in deep red blush. It was like cold, gross finger-paint on her cheeks. Maggie couldn't help but gasp as it was applied. Drusilla herself enjoyed a hearty treatment of blush, but she decided Maggie deserved oh-so-much more. She finished up her masterpiece by coating Maggie's lips in the same blush gunk, and coated her lids in an iridescent lilac eye shadow.

It was truly awful.

"Wow. I have no words." Maggie would be seeing this face in her nightmares, for sure.

"Dress time!" Drusilla sang. She skipped, quite pleased with herself, to the couch. She scooped up the abomination of a dress off the floor and readied it for Maggie. Drusilla grinned, ear to ear.

"Hop in, girlie!"


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

A small, robe clad boy hopped down the last jetting step of a rocky slope, nearing the edge of the woods. The ground beneath his tattered shoes went from forest terrain to clumpy sand. He lifted his arms out, tilting his torso with each step to keep balance.

He soon stood at the cove. The cerulean blue sky spanned high above, nearly no clouds obscuring its soft and subtle gradient, as it reached out to the beams of sunlight on the horizon. Looking down, he scanned the curved beach for sun dried drift wood. The Lost Boys were on their weekly supply run, and Don't Ask was always left with the task of collecting the proper firewood.

The tide was coming in, so there wasn't much time to dawdle. As Don't Ask hunched over, keeping his nose to the ground, he scooped up sticks here and there. He shook each as he pulled them from the sand, and propped them across his free arm into a bundle.

_Toink toink_

Don't Ask stopped momentarily and listened closely. He heard something.

_Toink_

_Toink toink toink_

Spinning his head around and scanning the beach, Don't Ask searched. It was a faint knocking he could hear. He continued up the beach, closer to the water now. Waves were crashing in, obscuring the noise. He waited for silence to listen again.

_Toink TOINK_

He was close. "The heck is it...?" He muttered, looking about confusedly. Something not far off glistened in the sun, twinkling at him lazily. Don't Ask moved in, his eyes fixed upon the object. As he came close he noticed it was a whiskey bottle, tucked halfway into the wet sand. It nudged and jostled in the incoming waves that swept by.

Something was inside of it.

_Toink toink toink_

"I'm comin', I'm comin'!" He squatted down and pulled the bottle out of the soft ground and wiped away the mucky wet sand that clung to the glass. There inside was his friend Tinkerbell. She was soggy and very unhappy looking. She stared through the glass at him, clearly sighing with relief, and then shaking her finger upwards at the cork. Don't Ask fumbled to tear it out, and once he did, he carefully poured the booze stained fairy out onto his palm.

"Lucky I found you!" He studied her. "...So. Pirates?" Don't Ask questioned.

"Yes! Pirates!" She shook off her wings, glaring at the boy. "We have a problem." Angrily mumbling now.

Don't Ask dropped the bottle into a robe pocket and tucked Tink into another, keeping her perched on the rim of the opening. He began bundling the firewood again. "What kind of problem?"

"They have Pan's kid again."

"Oh geeze. Hook has been out of good ideas for a long time now, but kidnapping Peter's kids again seems a bit..."

"Lackluster?" Tink finished.

"He needs a hobby."

"Tell me about it...but listen! I don't know what he's up to exactly, so I'd like to get Maggie back before anything happens to her! Peter has no idea she's here- we're the only ones who can help!" Tink clutched the pocket fabric as Don't Ask made his way back up the rocky slope.

"Huh. What about Jack?"

"No idea. He's not here."

"What's that little kid doing here all alone, anyway?" Don't Ask was staring on blankly as he went.

"That's just it, she's not a kid anymore. She's a grown up."

"More grownups!" Don't Ask snorted, rolling his eyes. "This oughta be fun..."

"Cut it out! Whatever the case, she's older and she's not doing herself any favors with her reckless mouth. She'll most likely get herself killed before Hook even bothers with anything else. She's getting on his bad side quicker than snot and we gotta get her out of there!" Tink's voice rose at an alarming rate.

Don't Ask didn't respond, but opened his mouth as if he wanted to.

"Forget it, just trust me, okay? We need to tell the others and figure something out." Tink threw her arms up.

"I've been itching to pull a fast one on the pirates again, count me in." Don't Ask squinted, envisioning an epic duel, and dunking some balding scallywags into the salty drink.

They had reached the foot of the Nevertree, Don't Ask heading for the firewood keep.

"Don't get too excited, okay? This might have to be more of an inconspicuous plan of action." Tink corrected him.

"Aw, but I want to fight those dorks!" He threw down the pile of sticks, and quickly grabbed one up, spinning around and wielding the object like a sword. "HA!"

Latchboy had been walking by, but came to a halt, screaming in alarm. "HEY!" The stick came awfully close to his red fluff of hair. He patted his head and looked irritatingly at Don't Ask. "What are you doin?"

"Tink says we're goin' after the pirates!" Don't Ask smirked, resting one hand on his robe.

"N-No! Tell them what's-" Tink was cut off. Two twins in passing, their scout uniforms completely identical as well, stopped in their tracks and lit up at the mention of a pirate battle.

"Pirates? When do we ambush them?" They whipped out their pocket knives, eyes wide.

It was like a domino effect of turning heads. One by one, word swept through the Nevertree. Boys ran to and fro, shouting to one another, "Pirate battle! Guys guys! Get ready!"

Tinkerbell groaned, placing her head in her palm. "Dammit, Lost Boys! This is the opposite of discreet..." With her wings finally dried, Tink darted from Don't Ask's pocket and landed on the porch of her hanging home. Upon the moss lawn, she shouted. "LOST BOYS! LISTEN TO ME!" She flickered brightly, trying to get their attention. "LOST BOYS!"

"What's up, Tink?" A tiny, curly haired boy asked. He was coming down a nearby ramp, and peeked his head through a vine banister.

"Too Small, grab everybody! This is important." Tink asked.

With that, he went off, collecting as many of the Lost Boys as possible, and steered them to the swirling trunk of the Nevertree, where Tink's house swayed ever so gently.

"Listen up guys! You got this blown out of proportion, okay? " The boys only looked at her, quietly. "We're not going to war again. We DO need to sneak into Pirate Town, however. Okay? Who's feeling up to it? You can't ALL go." _'Awhs'_ washed through the crowd. Tinkerbell scanned the deflated audience before her. The boys' dirty faces began to swivel around, looking at one another.

Near the front of the crowd, Ace raised his hand, his top hat ragged and far too big for his head. "I'm a good sneaker, Tink. I'll go."

"Good, Ace. Who else?"

Further back, No Nap's arm shot up, "I guess I'll go?" His wooden necklaces clinked together as he waved.

"Great! One more..." Tink tapped her chin. "How about Don't Ask? Wanna go?" He looked surprised at his name being called.

"I dunno." He thought about it for a moment. "You said no fighting?" His mouth perched to the side.

"I would prefer there wasn't any...BUT. If you have no other choice, I suppose-"

"OK! I'll go." He replied quickly.

"Ok, good, but did you hear the part where I said ONLY fight if you have no other choice? This is a STEALTH mission!" The murmuring in the crowd washed out her tiny voice. "Oh for God's sake..."

The boys all began moving about again. The courtyard soon cleared, leaving the chosen trio checking their weapons and discussing their preferred kill techniques. Tink would have to keep an eye on them once they got near town, but hopefully they could be stealthy enough for such an outing. All bets were off on whether or not Maggie would be easy to find once they got there, but if they were lucky, she wouldn't be anywhere near the infamous Hook.

"The second the sun hits the horizon, we head out." Tinkerbell certainly hoped it'd be a quick grab and go job, yet, somehow she knew better than to ever assume anything involving pirates would be easy...


	19. Chapter 19

_Oh lordy, you guys- it's been a while since I've picked this back up (due to crazy amounts of work and general dead ends with what to do next), but I've been excited to finish more chapters. Yes, they are short- I'm just so insanely tired these days and only find a few hours throughout the week to work on this. I wrote this chapter with the achiest butt and leg cramp ever after a 10 hour work day, like, It's unfortunate, truly. Help my butt. BUT I'M TRYIN' GUYS. So, hopefully these chapters can satiate you for now! Thanks for stickin' around during the hiatus! Though, I've noticed some...well. Impatient readers? I mean, I get it, I've read some things that I start snapping my fingers with too, so I'll take it as a compliment and assume that you're enjoying the read and really want to know what happens next- but i'll tell you now though, I'm really wanting to go for a full story and not just some quick smutty eruption, followed by an uninspired dead end. I'm building everything up, and including more than just two characters for reasons, really! I want to take you on an well rounded adventure! Back to Hook and the Neverland from the film- something in sequel territory (but with like, adult themes) at best. Not a lackluster porno fic. I mean, I want some butt touchin' too, don't get me wrong, haha! Dat Hoff Hook...yes please- But a natural progression deems itself appropriate, I feel. So, while I absolutely appreciate the comments and dedicated readers, I'm certainly not going to rush this story and leave you with some out of character hot dickings and an all bold **the end.** No candy before dinner, ya'll. However, I totally won't skimp on these scenes when the time comes (I'd say spoiler alert but I've already blown that cover a while back on Tumblr, hurrdurr). I just want to be as eloquently mischievous as possible. Anyway. I've definitely got a place I'm going with this, and I really hope it's something you enjoy (hell, it's still in the works too- I really care about it, so rushing it seems like a horrendous idea)._ _I'm excited to get more of it out there, anyway. For those of you on board with me, rock on. Full steam ahead! I really enjoy writing this, and the communication and enthusiasm from you guys has been insanely inspiring! To know this story is being enjoyed means more to me than you know!_

_Hopefully I can get some more fanart goin in the next few weeks as well! It's been a long time since I've drawn these dorks._

Chapter 19

"Holy shit."

Maggie stood facing a full body mirror, looking mortified at seeing her own gaudy appearance.

"I mean, woooow. Holy fucking shit." Her face hung, appalled at everything that registered before her.

"I think you look quite nice!" Smee interjected. He seemed to believe himself, a dopey smile spread across his round face.

"Yea, if you're into dresses that are capable of blotting out the sun. Look at my ass. Look at it." She turned to her side, the dress swishing around her feet. "The insane volume of my butt could send the world into a void of utterly terrifying darkness..." Her eyes darted from her bustle to her own eyes. "Man would be forced to become nocturnal...or perish." She was mumbling now, still gazing into the mirror.

"Alright miss, enough ganderin', we've got places to be!" Smee waved his hands at her like she was a stray cat in an entryway. "Out with ya then." He shuffled his dirty boots across the creaky wood floor.

"Aren't you a little...underdressed?" Maggie had noticed his lack of a wardrobe change.

"Excuse me!" He was astonished at the question. "I have on my special seaweed bow!" He pointed a stumpy finger to his gnarled green necktie.

"Wow, that is some stellar fashion, muchacho." She couldn't help but smile at the accessory.

"Thank you." He said matter-of-factly. Looking quite prim, he straightened the bow with his eyes closed. It crunched loudly.

"You're truly a fashion icon." Maggie spoke flatly as she made her way to the door. Then stopped. "Hold on."

"Yes Miss?" He was getting impatient.

"Other than maybe, what? Getting chased by some groady old guys? Why shouldn't I just book it out of here? What's the deal with the party? The stupid outfit?" Maggie pulled up on the mass of her dress, and dropped it. Her lip wore a very dramatic sneer.

"The Captain feels real bad about the whole...crab incident." Smee actually wasn't sure anymore what the party was for, himself. All he could remember was that Hook wanted to try and get Maggie on their good side. He'd play some sympathy cards for his leader's sake, deliver the girl, and then get out of there. He hated being left to his own devices. Disappointing his captain was always in the back of his mind, and frankly, it filled him with dread. He could tell the girl was fairly sharp, so he tried to choose his words carefully.

Maggie chuckled, "You're telling me he's APOLOGIZING with a party? C'mon. This guy?" She held a finger up to her lip, imitating Hook's moustache, and frowned.

Smee's mouth hung open for a moment, a smile threatening to appear, but his hand shot up to his cheek and he picked at his lower eyelid instead. "OH. Well, there'll be lots of ale. Wine. You know! One of those social get'um'togethers. Drinks n' food. What other reason do you need, amirite?" He laughed, quite unsure of himself.

"FOOD? Why are we not there already? Jesus- I can handle my share of obnoxious bullshit, but when I'm starved in the process, it gets complicated. Show me to the buffet table, oh hairy one. I'll consider hating all of you a little less." Her eyes had widened. "Hell, I'll do a back flip in this outrageous costume for a corndog- I don't care. Let's go!" Maggie enthusiastically tore the door open and plodded down the rickety steps of the prostitute's headquarters, the sound of her silk bustle tearing along the splinters and getting caught under her boots.

"Pick up your dress! You're a lady! Not a bull in a gown!" Smee yelped in frustration. Drusilla would not appreciate the treatment of the loaned dress if she knew that it was getting shredded only mere feet from the doorway. How would the dress hold up the rest of the night at this rate?

"I'll have you know this dress is bigger than my Honda. I don't know how you expect me to move, let alone NOT step on it." She rolled her eyes, trying to hoist the monstrosity of taffeta up off the ground.

Nearing a lit up square, Maggie could hear music faintly reach her ears. It floated through the air and combined itself with the crowd up ahead; A mixture of cackles, chatting, and bottles clanging together. As Maggie came closer, she found herself standing beneath an archway that led into the dusty town center. It had been decorated with candlesticks, their lit flames flickering warmly. It was quite cute, really. The faint glow of other candles continued down the path, illuminating the soft silhouettes of the townspeople.

Smoke rose from several buildings, indicating they had some kitchens inside, well at work. Maggie naturally headed straight for them. At this point, Smee too, had a skip in his step that was hard to ignore. Parties like these must be rare. That or he was as excited for grub as she was.

"This is the place then." Smee gestured. He led Maggie to a somewhat upscale building, rather, it was comparatively more inviting than its neighboring establishment, which was a dirty old soup kitchen with what may or may not have been a dead guy laying across the porch.

Once the two were inside, they found themselves stuffed into a somewhat crowded entryway. Maggie halted and took a moment to study her surroundings. Trying her best to avoid the rough shoulders and jabbing elbows of passerby, she could see the room spilled out into a dining area and dance floor. Both were incredibly crowded, people seated and downing pints, others out cutting a rug mere feet from the live band that played.

The building itself was reminiscent of the overall Pirate Town experience; A tad shabby and creaky, but it had been decorated with draped velvet banners, flags, ornate rugs, and an eclectic setting of chairs and tables. It was charming to say the very least. As much as Maggie would have liked to enjoy the places finer details, she had a priority, and that was-

"FOOD!" Not far off sat a spread that almost brought Maggie to her knees. She turned on her auto pilot, disregarding her concerns of running into people far behind. She shoved her way through the crowd, tripping several pirates in the process with her enormous gown. "Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." She hummed in a dull tune, eyes fixated on the steaming table, dead ahead.

Closer and closer she got. Her eyes broke their gaze to follow those who had just visited the table. She was taking mental notes of the food that was available, and her anticipation grew great fervor. Smelling the contents laid out before her now, Maggie's mouth watered violently, reminding her of that dreadful moment before vomiting. She was ravenous. Absolutely crazed with hunger. How long had it been since she had eaten last anyway? Her head thumped. Ached. She was closing in on the glorious buffet.

"Ah! Maggie!" A figure in red cut her off from those last few feet of bliss. Maggie looked up, breaking her wild predator stare from the heaping plains of fresh dinner, only mere feet away. Her pale, powdered face fell into a distraught expression, then morphed into a horrendous frown when she saw the culprit.

It was Hook.

"Welcome to the party, my dear."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Hook stood there, unmoving and eyes scanning, taking in Maggie's absurdly camp getup. He smiled in his usual sinister style, though clearly amused. He flashed his gapped tooth in the process. It was a detail Maggie had yet to register until just now. She found herself distracted in a sudden wormhole of thoughts.

There was a general look about him she had remembered from all those years ago, but she found herself with a very fresh set of eyes, becoming reacquainted with the Captains features. Things that hadn't necessarily mattered much before were interesting to her now. A much younger Maggie would have told you that his most defining detail was the shiny hook fastened to his left hand. However, now, the most striking thing were his dark features. Children are never as appreciative of the finer details concerning the common pieces of an individual. Eyes, mouths, noses. This case in particular, eyebrows. No doubt the moustache was a fine start too. Oddly enough, Maggie had actually forgotten about his hook. It took her glancing down at it very briefly to become aware of it again, but an unseen force kept a good portion of her attention on his face. Hook was an absurdly unique man.

One thing, overall, had become clear to Maggie. For the hefty amount of curiosity Hook demanded, it was all met with hints of lingering dread. She was beginning to associate him with that of a yellow jacket. Much like the solid yellow and black markings on those notorious flying menaces, Hook had similar striking colors and a unique silhouette that caught her attention immediately. The rich reds, intricate gold, and raven locks filled her with unease. A subtle weapon readied upon each of them. Even as they make their way to you, the need to turn and run is strong. An instinctual fear overcomes, sending off a symphony of warning signs.

Maggie was frozen in his presence, all thoughts of hunger and fatigue slipping into the back of her mind. She could begin to speak, or perhaps run, but the truth of the matter was, she was suddenly too frightened to move. He could sting at any moment.

"You hardly look yourself this evening!" Hook mused.

Maggie cleared her throat as quietly as possible, "Yea." She fumbled with her hands, patting down the sides of her wide dress.

_He could sting._

"I've got blondie to thank for whatever this is." She met his gaze and found it complicated to look away, as much as she wanted to. Her eyes jumped from place to place. First his less than subtle nose, up to his attention grabbing brows, and down to his creased chin. She searched for the human in his appearance to calm herself.

Hook noticed her shifty gaze and stiff posture. Her unsteady hands still busying themselves upon the fabric of her orbit worthy monstrosity of a gown. She was staring at him, but only managed to make eye contact sporadically. He leaned in a tad closer to her, tilting his head slightly, filling her field of vision with his intense stare. "Are we faring well? You had such a troubling morning." His voice calm. It was surprisingly normal sounding. Just enough to relax her.

"Yea. Fine." Maggie caught a whiff of food again and was hurled violently back into the realm of hunger. She looked away now, over to the spread just beyond Hook. He followed her eyes, twisting himself to look.

"Ahh, I see. Why, you're probably famished." Standing up straight, he moved to the table. "Please!" He gestured with his hook, then brought it back in, holding it with his hand. He grinned.

Maggie nodded, pushed the dress to the side so she could see her feet, and proceeded to shuffle to the buffet. In that very moment, she was overcome with a series of strong emotions. Her usual diet consisted of frozen pizza, value menu burgers, and the occasional red dyed pasta garbage from a can. A life of fine dining was never hers to enjoy. Until now.

What she saw before her was what could only be described as a godly feast. It was a variety of everything, all in incredible portions, arranged beautifully, and steaming in a glorious fashion. Her eyes couldn't stay focused on one thing too long before they were torn in another direction.

Glazed ham, roasted chicken, grilled steaks, hearty sausages. All delicately sliced and glistening. Something from every corner of the garden placed throughout. Corn on the cob as big as Maggie's arm, plump red tomatoes, and crisp green bell peppers. Orchard worthy fruits, juicy tropical delicacies, and even a giant jicama. Copious amounts of cheeses that ranged from white to deep oranges- marbled and crumbled as well. Hand cracked raw almonds, sunflower seeds, and candied cashews. Desserts that should be illegal in 50 states, dripping with molten chocolate, crumbled brown sugars, and drizzled light caramel.

It was utterly surreal. Impossible. Dreamlike.

Though, there it all sat. Waiting patiently for her.

Maggie slowly moved around the food, trying to not fling herself onto the table, rolling about and crying loudly. She broke and yelped suddenly, frightening those around her and furrowing the prominent brows of Hook himself. Greeting her at the end of the table was a seafood showcase of epic proportions.

"Sweet mother of shit." Maggie breathed. If she had to choose any one genre of food, any one preferred protein, it was seafood. On the table sat thick crab legs jetting off of metal platters. Frighteningly plump lobster tails. Steaming clams peeking from their shells. All surrounded by melted crystal clear butter. Fish steaks with crisp skins and flakey meat; salmon, tilapia, cod. Shrimp on ice, and grilled upon skewers. Crystal bowls with varieties of cocktail and tartar sauces.

"Pinch me." Maggie's mouth parted, barely enunciating.

"I would but I think you have far too many layers." Hook had heard. He stood next to her now, hardly paying attention to the food. He was still intrigued with the odd girl that had arrived. The bare legged, dusty and dirty, thinly layered individual had receded into a overabundance of makeup and puffiness. Her natty and tangled hair that once hung all around her was now neatly pinned up, revealing the back of her very long, soft neck. He found his focus fall to a small beauty mark she had located directly below the base of her hairline. It was a very sweet detail that almost made her endearing.

Maggie somehow managed to fit five shrimp into her mouth, clearly forgetting to chew after each one, and had a small stream of cocktail sauce sneaking its way down the side of her mouth. "Ohmyfuckinggoddude." She blurted through her full mouth.

**Almost.** Endearing.

Hook was about to speak when a shrill voice erupted from not far off.

"Jaaaames!" First a dainty hand popped up above the sea of heads, waving a lacey handkerchief. Mere seconds later came the rest of her. The gaudy shine of her dress, followed by a mass of curly white blonde hair. It was Drusilla. Her face wore a smile that was insanely wide and ecstatic.

When Maggie witnessed Drusilla emerge from the crowd, it struck her as something far too hysterical. She inhaled with such force that she almost choked on her shrimp. Her congested snorts could be heard clearly, prompting Hook to turn quickly, and frown at her. This certainly did not help the situation. Maggie looked up to see the look on his face, crumpled chin and all, and could no longer hold back her laughter. She forcefully spit a few half chewed shrimp into her palm, trying her best to avoid choking.

Drusilla drew ever near, ignoring Maggie's hysterics. Hook finally realized she was closing in. He jumped in surprise, and took a slight step backwards as she drew herself in to peck him on the cheek. He stiffened as her bright red lips made contact with his face. Drusilla puckered up and 'mmmmd' during the awkwardly long kiss. He tried a smile but it was harshly pathetic.

That sent her over the edge. Maggie had absolutely lost control. Not only was there cocktail sauce glommed on her face, it was now accompanied by a fresh string of spit that made its way down her chin. "I'm- sorry-...!" She was hunched over, drowning in a fit of giggles, replaying the look in Drusilla's crazy eyes in her head, the gaping smile. She could feel her face getting hot from embarrassment, but it was too hard to stop, and her stomach began to cramp painfully. She wasn't entirely sure why this was so amusing to her. She had lost it. What else.

Next, visions of the entire day ran rampant in her mind. The creaky bathroom door and wooden plank toilet. Splashing herself with water and hobbling out of there with a cold wet crotch.

Crabs.

She howled until no sound came out. She slammed her hand on the table, sending crystal cups tinkering against one another. Maggie thought perhaps the concept of Neverland had made her delusional. It was either that or her bout of violent hunger that had driven her to insanity. Both? Whatever it was, she couldn't stop laughing. Everything was funny now. She turned away, held up her clean palm to Hook and Drusilla, and tried her best to swallow what food she had left in her mouth. "Oh my God..." She inhaled deeply, looked down at the garbled mess of food still in her hand, and sighed. Turning to face the two again, her face was flush, and tears pooled in her eyes.

"For God's sake, woman. What in the hell is wrong with you?" Hook snapped, finding her outburst to be so bizarre that he could only feel irritated. "She's gone into absolute hysterics." He grabbed his own kerchief and used his hook to turn Maggie's face up towards him. "As my personal guest, I'd prefer you were not covered in your own drool."

"Then- then who's drool would you prefer?" Maggie barely made it through the whole sentence and erupted into a painful snort that tore up through her throat, followed by more cackling. As Hook reluctantly tidied her up, her laughs were muffled, and made the fabric billow ever so slightly in his hand. Maggie clenched her gut, trying to calm the pain of her tightened muscles.

"Did Peter spoon feed you paint when you were younger? I say..." Turning to a now clearly upset Drusilla, "She's absolutely unhinged. Insane." His voice a low grumble.

Drusilla nodded, smiling at him. However, each time his hand came near Maggie's face, she flinched. It had to be absolutely foolish to feel threatened by this loony woman-child with food all over her face. Though, Drusilla wasn't actually sure. That was even more upsetting. She had a frown hidden under the sweet smile, and it snuck out onto her forehead, in thick wrinkles. "Unladylike, I think." She lifted her nose ever so slightly, and looked at her captain for confirmation. He was too busy glaring in Maggie's general direction.

"I'm so sorry, wow." Maggie grabbed a nearby cloth napkin and cleaned her hand, leaving the shrimpy contents wrapped up inside of it afterwards. "This entire day." She wiped a tear away. "I mean seriously. It's just fucking ridiculous. I had to get that out of my system."

Drusilla squeaked. What foul language! In front of her beloved Hook, no less. She was surprised to see that he didn't even acknowledge it. Little did she know he had already had more than his fair share of Maggie's choice words much earlier. Her statement was nothing jarring to him at this point.

"If you think you can retain what's left of your sanity, please, continue with your dinner. When you're ready, I'll be seated just over there." Hook pointed to a secluded spot that overlooked most of the tavern, a flight of stairs above. "Take your time." He took a moment to stare at her, clearly still confused at her entire existence, then turned and walked away shaking his head. Drusilla enthusiastically followed suit and crammed her arm up and under his, dramatically swaying her backside as she went. She craned her neck uncomfortably to go in for another peck. He was unmoving, and received it with little to no acknowledgment.

"Get a room." Maggie said to herself, whilst crunching on some almonds. She surveyed the feast some more, and began her quest to satiate herself. Foregoing a plate, she ended up heavily grazing. Picking at things here and there, throwing them in her mouth and continuing onwards to the next. She was so enamored with the spread that she never actually sat down. She circled the table several times until she felt full. The tight corset of the dress made eating a lot somewhat complicated, but what she had accomplished in her massive taste testing adventure would probably suffice for now.

Maggie found herself clearing out leftover giggles as she ate, and wore a stupid smile throughout most of her meal. Once she felt satisfied with her tamed hunger and (_for the time being_) sanity, she figured she should make her way up to where Hook resided. She was curious to see if Smee had been right about that apology.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Up she went, feeling as though the bands' upbeat tunes were a track playing in a movie scene. Starring her, as the leading lady.

Maggie Banning...in: Eat the Food and Run.

Though she kept on. The hall becoming slightly more and more dim as she proceeded.

I could leave. I could just go now.

Her stomach began to turn around even though her body moved forward. She would have to decide now.

Her feet didn't stop.

Her eyes stayed glued to the path dead ahead.

Her gut ached. Begging her to reconsider.

Nothing is going to happen.

Laughter erupted nearby. Maggie had just about reached the designated VIP table she had been directed to, and as she rounded the slight curve of the hall, she heard the end of Hook's story.

"-That's when he knew it was over. It was an incredible battle. One of my most memorable. Oh yes. But the chief was finally brought down with a swift pierce of my blade. Just before the sun fell beneath the mountains. His blood matched the sky."

"You are the very best, my captain, the very very best!" Drusilla's faint voice droned, sounding embarrassingly similar to that a woman having an orgasm.

Yikes.

"What'd I miss?" Maggie felt that anytime was a bad time, so she sauntered up the corner booth as confidently as she was able.

The booth itself was dimly lit with wall sconces, candles perched inside. Seated within were Smee, Drusilla, and of course, Hook. They had a decent spread of elegant rum bottles, and several tankards of ale. A stiff boars head hung firmly upon a plaque on the far wall above the table. Somebody had draped a red scarf around him, as well as a ratty pirate hat between his small scruffy ears.

"I think that guy has had way too much to drink." Maggie spoke in a flat tone, pointing at the boar on the wall. It took the entire table a moment to register that she had just made a joke. Finally Hook bellowed.

"HA! HA HA...Ahhh wonderful! Sit down Maggie! Smee, make room." Hook smiled as he spoke, the joke clearly having gone over famously for the pirate. Smee indulged in a laugh as well, and promptly scooted down the booth's wooden seat.

Drusilla was not amused whatsoever. She had never made Hook laugh. Instead she pushed herself closer to him. "Tell us more about how you fought the natives!"

"In good time, Drusilla." He lazily waved his hand at her, but looked at Maggie. "Like our good friend up there, I suggest you indulge as well! What is it you fancy?"

Maggie answered so fast that she didn't even realize she had replied. "Riesling. Blush. Something chilled." Hook hardly followed. "Wine. Just wine. Wine is great."

It's cute and sweet.

It's also a crutch.

"Oh, yes. Of course. LEWIS! I say, Lewis!" Hook hollered out into the hall, and mere seconds later the thumping of boots could be heard. "I regret to say I was not prepared! We shall remedy that- AH, Lewis." It was eye patch guy. He surveyed the table very briefly, and was soon looking at Maggie, scowling as per usual.

"Sup." She said.

No reply. He only scowled more. Then looked to Hook.

"Ye'sir?"

"Please bring us several bottles of our finest wines-" He shifted his gaze to Maggie, who sat leaning into the table, eyes wide, "-ah...chilled." He added.

Maggie felt a tinge of appreciation as Hook ordered her wine. She was fairly certain, however, that she was just primarily excited to finally have a drink today. She needed it.

Once the bottles were delivered and quickly opened by the ever jolly Lewis, Hook took a gentlemanly route and poured Maggie a glass. The Captain was not wearing his striking black and gold glove this evening. He was accessorized with a large, heavy skull ring, its red ruby eyes glinting faintly as he poured. Baby stuff, she thought, as he hardly topped it off.

"Cheers." Maggie nodded at him, threw her head back, and downed the contents within seconds. She gently placed the thin stemmed glass on the table, and waited.

Hook raised a good portion of his forehead, and opened his mouth, quite pleased at what he had just witnessed. "Well, now that's more like it!" He snatched her glass and filled it again, but this time with more. "This was plundered by my crew. From a French ship. We took every last bottle. Very fine drink, this is." Hook gently spoke, raising his eyes to hers and passing the glass, "Special occasions only." He was watching her quite carefully now. It wasn't long before he finished speaking that she had emptied the glass once more. Placing it down a second time, Maggie caught herself staring at Hook's gapped tooth again. She said nothing. Breaking back up into his eyes, she thought about a third glass. She wanted more. As she had hoped, the silence spoke for itself, and Hook was quick to deliver her the desired refill.

Drusilla watched, her lips thin, as her gaze darted from Hook to Maggie. "I would love some as well!" She suddenly blurted. "I absolutely ADORE French wines!"

Hook turned and looked at the poodle haired woman, sighed, and dragged an empty glass towards himself. "Of course, Drusilla." As he passed it to her, he spoke in a somewhat exhausted tone, "I know how you love the finer things in life." His enthusiasm was lacking.

"I do! You know me well, my sweet captain!" She sipped her wine, pinky out, her dimples threatening to burst at any moment from beneath her bright blush. She ran her free hand down his arm, and leaned even closer to him. Hook lifted his chin to avoid a nose full of curls.

Maggie had noticed the catty, passive aggressive this-n-that's directed at her via Drusilla since she had first seen her. She wasn't stupid, but as the sweet pink drink marinated within her, she felt no remorse prodding the two for questions. Why not.

"So, you two married or what?" Her lips were tingly and numb as she spoke. It was starting.

Hook's mouth nearly disappeared.

Smee coughed.

Drusilla's jaw hung slightly agape. She looked to her captain, eyes glistening with anticipation as to what he might say.

Clearing his throat, Hook spoke, "No. We are not-" He glanced at Drusilla quickly, "-married."

Drusilla's mouth slowly closed. She said nothing.

Oh my God, these people are so dysfunctional.

Maggie was well on her way to drunk town, she could feel it. Her reservations were out the door and she prodded on. "Well, but, you're together? Right?" She asked, this time looking at Drusilla for an answer.

"Ah-" Drusilla hesitated. This horrible girl was putting her in a uncomfortable position. She knew how she felt about Hook, there was no doubt. Though, she supposed she knew, in the far reaches of her mind, that he truly didn't feel anything in return. Drusilla was quite certain he wasn't capable of it. As a matter of fact it had never been witnessed by anyone in town. This was how she coped with the lack of returned affections. Though, she was his...wasn't she? She supposed it had never truly been a matter of discussion.

Hook spoke up, stopping any further prodding, and redirected the question quickly. "Maggie. My sincerest of apologies if this is none of my business. I'm terribly curious- as to who has your heart?" He knew she wasn't married, what with his solid study materials Smee retrieved for him. He knew many things, really. Let's see if she enjoys having the tables turned.

Maggie laughed, finished off her sixth glass, and sighed, "Ohhhh, I think you know." She coyly smiled at Hook.

Drusilla's heart dropped. This was it. Maggie's confession. She knew it. Hook and Maggie. Right behind her back. She wasn't ready to hear this.

Maggie yet again pointed up to the boars head and signed dreamily. "He just gets me, you know?" She slid her wine glass back to Hook and slammed an elbow on the table, resting her face on her fist.

Once more, Hook and Smee almost looked dumbfounded, but as the statement sunk in, they rejoiced in a chorus of laughter. Drusilla remained stone-faced.

"I like this one! Did'n know she was so'funny!" Smee patted the table, clearly entertained. He had a fair amount of booze in him at this point too, a glaring set of red cheeks and all.

"Yes, who would have guessed." Hook replied.

"Funny what a bottle of wine does." Maggie slurred. "Oh." She saw Smee's nose. "I totally did that." She leaned in and squinted at the damaged schnozz. "Sorry man, that sucks." She gave him a hearty slap on the back.

Maggie was an all around gentle drunk, which may be hard to believe, given her usual, reckless attitude. Even an incident regarding a box full of crabs and being manhandled by a bunch of idiot lackeys didn't seem to upset her as much as it had earlier. No, the warm boil of wine in her stomach settled her tremendously. On a more negative note, she did have the unfortunate habit that most drinkers have; a loose tongue. Whether or not it's meant to be offensive, rude, or just plain uncalled for, it was no holds barred when it came to her conversing.

"Listen, I've known some dudes, but I've never had one give me crabs until this morning." She held up her thumb, turned it slowly, and observed the awful blue and purple bruise it wore. "Do you see this shit? This hurts! REALLY bad!" She then proceeded to shove her damaged digit into the captain's face. He flinched as she swiftly leaned in.

Hook's moment to apologize was set and ready to go. "I must say, I'm appalled at my poor reaction earlier. To think I let this happen to you. Bad form on my account, truly." He carefully held her damaged hand in his. "There must be some way for me to properly apologize for this mess." He was winning. His plans were unfolding so cleanly and seamlessly, he couldn't help but smile. He had gained Maggie's trust well enough to get her up here, and furthermore, she had fallen right into the trap he had set. She had fallen into it roughly six times, to be exact, and her dizzy expression proved it. He was so utterly calm now that every line in his face had vanished. His eyes bore into Maggie's from across the table. His mouth parted, revealing yet again-

"That's so fucking adora-" Maggie mumbled incoherently, and then stopped. The room was a dreamlike daze. The sounds of the tavern morphing into a hum of indistinct muffles. She had arrived at her favorite level of wasted, to be as poetic as possible. It was a dangerous place to be, given that she found herself about to compliment Captain Hook. For what reason exactly? It was absurd. She found herself holding back on quite a few words as the night had progressed, which was terribly alarming. No amount of finely aged wine should ever deem it sane to flirt with a sadistic Quaker Oats looking motherfucker. As easy as it was to tell herself this, she still couldn't shake the temptation to do so anyway.

In Maggie's colorful past, she had done such things on many occasion. Each time she drank, she felt the need to lay claim to somebody. Some unsuspecting fellow. Whether he be a party member among her and her friends, a nearby stranger at the Galaga machine, a busy bartender, or even the cute waitress with the floral headband. That was the one time.

Maggie was a solid individual on her own. She could go months without considering a significant other, easily. Frankly, she didn't need one. She was content. However, a mere two vodka cranberries later, and she would go latching onto the first dude that told the best joke or had the most contagious smile, and she didn't let go until she was hauled out of the bar and into the back of her best friends Ford.

Something about the attention Hook was giving Maggie sent that familiar vibe of intrigue up her spine, down her arm, and right into the tips of the fingers that were currently held by Hook. What had he just said to her? She had forgotten. She closed her grip on him. Just feeling another person's hand was delightfully pleasant. It was a clear cut, pure sensation. There was a comforting solidity to it. Her senses were somewhat of a mess, but she had no problem feeling the warmth of his hand.

Hook looked down to witness the sudden affectionate grab. The rate at which his heart took off, thundering at speeds he wasn't quite sure it was even capable of, was startling. It almost offended him. What was she doing? Jesting some more, perhaps. She had to be. He waited for another dry one-liner from her side of the table, but what she said was the last thing he would have expected.

"Surprising, how quickly the color has returned to your face." Maggie recited. She smiled, proud of herself, she squeezed his hand gently.

Hook's raging heartbeats forcefully pushed up and into his ears so painfully, he feared they would erupt. His plans quickly fell apart in that moment. He was at a loss for words. A rare thing, indeed.

Inches away, Drusilla was flush with the purest of rage. Though, she held it down enough to calmly ask to be let out of the booth. "I need to powder my nose!"

Hook was left with no choice but to release Maggie's hand and remove himself from the seat. He offered his free hand as Drusilla scooted her way out, but she acted as though she didn't notice it, and quickly shuffled down the dim hallway.

"Uh ohhhhhhhh." Smee sang. "She's upset, Cap'n!" Guffawing, he brought his tankard up to his mouth, and gurgled into it before he drank.

Hook rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh goodie."

"Drama police, bew bew!" Maggie flashed a pair of pistol fingers. "Oof, you know, she has a good idea. Excuse me. I gotta...powder like a racehorse. " She snapped her fingers and pointed at Hook as she stumbled away. "Haha. Jokes." Then she fell forward into the banister. It reverberated in thick waves. Steadying herself, she shakily stood up straight, and laughed. "I'm good!"

"Good Lord, you can hardly walk." Hook was surprised that Maggie was even capable of movement after polishing off an entire bottle of wine. Yet, away she went, swaying confidently. He could hear her mutter, "What are legs, anyway." Hands sliding along the wall, she turned around the corner and disappeared.

"I saw that." Smee spoke suddenly, not sounding so drunk anymore. He looked his captain dead in the face. "N' I've never EVER seen you look like that before." He was serious, eyes wide and full of wonder.

"I will tear your tongue out and make you wear it as a boot lace." Hook growled, his flush cheeks slowly returning.

Smee chuckled and went back to his drink. "She's very pretty."

"Shutup." He leaned back into the booth, fingering his chin in thought.

"I like the little, a'hm. Thingy. She has. What's it called." Smee looked up, searching his mind.

"The small beauty mark on her neck." Hook almost whispered, his eyes distant.

"YEA! That!" He shook his fingers at Hook excitedly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He replied, a faint smile on his lip.

"AHHH!" Smee tilted his head. "You dog."

Now, for Hook, this was an odd thing. He had put behind him, long ago, the reckless feelings of intrigue. Attraction. Brainless, animalistic courting. Especially with someone such as Maggie. She was a cornucopia of horrible things. Pan's child, fairly young, and incredibly uncouth.

Pan's child.

He settled on the thought carefully. A moment of clarity making itself apparent. My God, what is wrong with me. PAN'S CHILD. That is the ultimate deterrence. He felt a rush of shameful, embarrassing dread as he recounted the evenings events. Maggie had been oddly charming. From the heinous getup, to the shrimp incident. Her off the wall jokes and the drunken stupor. The way she had grabbed his hand. It was all so uncalled for. She flipped things on him left and right, and that thought alone confused him. He found himself trying to push the thoughts of her well away, when a flash of her beauty mark crossed his mind again. His heart leapt.

Don't you dare, James.

Don't you dare think about it.

Hook suddenly stood up, straightened his intricately detailed coat, and made his way to the stairs.

"Where ye goin'?" Smee's voice went up.

"She didn't finish her thought a moment ago. I'm going to find out what she was going to say."

James, you are an absolute fool.


	22. Chapter 22

_Well, thank God for random bursts of ideas, and a fairly free weekend. I present to you __**another**__ chapter. I know! That's pretty crazy, considering my dry spell. However, my butt is still out of commission. Please pray for it, k thnx._

_Anyhow- I humbly offer up this LONGER THAN USUAL chapter to your hungering lady bits. _

_Enjoy, you hooligans._

Chapter 22

Inside the designated ladies room, Maggie indulged in the breaking of the seal, as she so endearingly called it back home. Though, the outlet encasing the toilet was a narrow one, and a certain somebody was too wide to fit. The petticoat beneath the dress was causing the most problems. Maggie lifted the dress and peeled the large hidden layer off of her, tossing it to the side with a _fuff_. There, now she could sit. Well, sortof.

Once her business had been taken care of she debated putting the over sized petticoat back on, but ultimately decided it could just stay in here. It wouldn't necessarily be missed, that is, unless Drusilla pitched a fit over it later- but that was a conversation for ones-self when the drunken daze had well worn off. Until then.

The reflection looking back at Maggie through the spotty mirror was still frightfully unfamiliar. Even more so in her current condition. She had completely forgotten about her makeover from Drusilla several hours earlier. The white powder on her face had faded slightly, but she was still as pale as ever. The furiously bright red lipstick had hardly vanished. The blush and lilac eye shadow still clung vibrantly, spare a few finger marks from resting her face on her hands throughout the night. Her hair had maintained a fair amount of its towering up-do, only a few pieces had loosened.

Maggie drunkenly stared on and decided, to hell with it. "I don't know you, lady." She twisted the porcelain knob on the little sink and cupped her hands into the cold water. After a moment of scrubbing, Maggie let out her breath, water droplets hovering on her lip and climbing into her mouth as she stood back up. Her reddened scratches from earlier visible again.

_Almost there._

She yanked the depressing feathers from her suedo-beehive and proceeded to remove the bobby pins next. They seemed never ending, forming a small pile on the cracked wooden counter. Eventually she had plucked them all out and her hair freely tumbled back to her shoulders in wavy tendrils. Down her back, and draped across her arms, it hung lazily. She ran her fingers through it quickly, ruffling it back to life.

_There I am._

Maggie turned to leave the room a tad too quickly, and wobbled in place, trying to keep her balance. Once she resumed a less shaky stance, she continued on as planned.

Exiting the restroom, Maggie passed a familiar face. Sitting in a velvet green armchair, by the bar, sat a very lonely looking Drusilla. The two women glanced at each other, but forewent speaking. Maggie was well aware that she may have been a bit rude, carelessly schmoozing with Hook. She felt a tinge of guilt. It wasn't in her comfort zone, sober or drunk, to ever confront an angry female.

Correction: A female that SHE has made angry.

Maggie moved past Drusilla, walking a little bit faster in order to get out of her sight sooner, feeling her eyes on her as she went. A shiver overwhelmed Maggie, making her back arch and shiver. "Eughh..." She shook it off, twitching her fingers as she went.

Moving past the backdoor of the tavern, Maggie was nearing the flight of stairs leading up to the booth, but a voice called to her. She stopped, feeling her stomach flip numbly. She twisted her head around, trying to find him. It had been Hook's rough voice. He stood half inside the tavern, his shoulder leaning against the doorframe. The dark, bobbing ocean could be seen a ways behind him.

"Yes you." He looked down his nose at her, waiting for her to comprehend the scene. He could see the brief confusion spread across her face, and the stiff way she gawked at him. "Well don't just stand there." Backing up, he exited the building fully and stood waiting on the porch right outside.

Feeling frustrated by her lack of speedy processing, Maggie finally came to again, throwing her foot forward and dragging her heavily dressed self to the door. A much smaller door than the wide entryway she conquered earlier. She observed the frame, and then herself. She looked up and puffed, her cheeks expanding. Hook waited, silently amused, unbeknownst to her. She had to forcefully push herself through the doorway.

An obstruction stopped her.

She may have left the petticoat to perish in the public restroom, and apart from her enormous bustle causing a few issues as well, Maggie's loaner dress had the largest sleeves known to man perched just below her shoulders. They weren't princess sleeves, capped and capable. No. They were like thick loaves of bread jetting off of her arms. Maggie felt like a princess. A stupid, lumpy, idiotic princess. As she continued to push, the sleeves bent awkwardly in the doorway. Hook held back a snort of a laugh, transforming it into a quiet cough.

Maggie had heard this. She rolled her eyes, "UGH, fuck this." She began to yank at the sleeves, one after the other. The sound of shredding brocade echoed in the boardwalk alleyway. She managed to completely remove the sleeves from the dress. Pulling them down over her thin arms like water wings, she growled. "LATER!" Maggie proceeded to chuck them off into the darkness just beyond. Hook turned to watch them soar. Tiny splashes could be heard in the distance seconds later.

Hook's bottom lip puckered. He found this outrageous act to be absurdly entertaining, but he tried his best to keep a straight face.

Once Maggie crammed herself all the way through the door, she patted down the sides of her gown and looked to the Captain, huffing and puffing from her brief fit of rage.

"Hi." She said.

Hook quickly blinked several times, as if resetting himself. He had been noting her transformation back to the normal Maggie. Without the massive amounts of makeup, and her dark honey hair cascading around her torso- it was undeniable that she made the hideous dress look exceptionally better. She was like an exhausted looking Cinderella who just ran from the castle. He found himself unable to comment, let alone speak.

"Hello in there, Captain Crunch." Maggie reached out and lightly tugged on one of his long black locks. He seemed to notice, his expression stoically coherent, but that was just from the outside. Hook's default face was unrepresentative of the throat clenching hesitation that had overcome him. This was something he hadn't experienced in a long time. He never had any trouble speaking, improvising, lying. Whatever he needed to do, he found it simple to eloquently weave words together, no matter what the situation.

Maggie's naturally rose colored lips softly closed together as she waited. She had a tiny smile perched in the corner of her mouth.

It was incredibly odd how quickly each detail of the girl had come across to him this morning as nothing but forgettable features of his mere trade tool. She was no more than a piece of leverage just twelve hours ago. He supposed he had been unaffected due to his unpreparedness at seeing her grown up. He had harvested an entirely new set of feelings toward her now, what with his recent observations.

Those were no longer the eyes of a tiresomely irritating child.

Those were no longer the babbling lips of a whining brat.

Her hair was no longer the neatly combed mane of a spoiled little girl.

Maggie had long outgrown her younger self. She now displayed prominent, sharp cheekbones, a bold, slightly upturned nose, and a lengthy body that had filled out into the satisfyingly mature figure that stood before him now.

It had finally sunk in. Regardless of her heritage and the incident all those years ago, he had been reunited with a gut wrenchingly beautiful young woman, whose once stubborn attitude had evolved into a strangely addicting storm of spit fire and raw, fearless amusement. Hook was worried that he had let himself be taken by her. He had never once considered such a woman could exist. He was so taken aback at first that he was sure he absolutely couldn't stand her. It was becoming clear that he had mixed his feelings of irritation with absolute fluster. What would a man like James Hook ever do with a feeling like that. He obviously had no idea. Not a single one.

He was capable of countless acts of chaos, manipulation, and even murder- but he had no idea how to kill this.

Maggie had taken to looking around, having become tired of waiting for some sort of response from Hook. She saw a small building on the edge of the water that caught her attention.

"Maggie," Finally he found his voice, "what were you-"

"What's in there?" They spoke at the same time. Hook immediately felt annoyed by this, but a wash of relief knocked it out of the way. She hadn't heard him.

"What?"

"That building?" He answered the original question.

"What were you-"

"It's The Museum."

Maggie paused.

"Care for a tour?"

"Kinda late, isn't it?" She looked back at the building. The dock near it creaked calmly in the night.

"Nonsense. I own this place." He placed his hand upon her back and waved his hook out in front of them. "After you."

The walk there was a slow one, what with Maggie hardly recovered from her night of boozing. She tried her best to speak as coherently as possible as they went, her steps uncontrollable and clumsy. Hook steadied her with his palm still flat on her back, and guided her to the small stair walkway that led to the entrance of the strange little shack.

The Museum was a place where Hook kept his collection of disabled clocks. Each one had a story. Whether it was torn from the pocket of a fallen enemy, stolen from a unassuming crews cargo hold, or found items that had been hidden around Pirate Town- Hook had recovered and destroyed every last one of them and kept them as trophies.

Once they arrived at the paint peeled door, Maggie could see a little bit of the inside through a tall, dusty window. "Antiques!?" She gasped.

"Sort of." He pushed the door open.

Maggie entered first, inhaling the musty, dry air that hung just inside. It was an incredible and nostalgic smell that always sent images rushing through her mind. Unknown but familiar memories and thoughts danced in her brain as she took one creaky step after another to the center of the room. "Whoa." She surveyed the place, seeing now just what resided within. Wall to wall clocks. Even the ceiling was covered with them. From cuckoos, to grandfathers. Pocket watches lay scattered on tables, surrounded by lost cogs and springs. The clocks all sat or hung around the room, their reflective glass surfaces shining in the night's natural light that snuck in through the old window.

"Collector?" She still gazed about.

"Indeed. Each one is very special."

Noticing the utter silence of the place, Maggie turned to Hook, brow raised, "They're all..."

"Dead."

"So I see. What's that about?"

"I prefer the silence."

"I guess you don't need to tell the time here anyway." She turned back around, looking about the room some more.

"That one is _huge_!" Maggie saw a clock in the far corner of the room, propped up against the wall. She moved towards it.

Hook felt sick looking at it. He had his men bring it here themselves, as he didn't want to look at it himself. He had never felt quite ready. He felt foolish having forgotten about it until now. This was the first time he had seen it since-

"What's the story behind this one?"

Hook swallowed. "That was quite the trophy. Torn from the..." He paused. Placing his hook on one of the tables with a hollow 'thunk'.

Maggie waited.

"Do you remember, Maggie? When you were here last time?"

"I remember you were a huuuuuge ass hole." She muttered, head turned as she pushed the large hands of the clock around.

"When I fought your father."

She stopped.

_He's just a mean old man, without a mommy. _

"Oh my God. OH MY GOD! That's right!" She screeched, "How..." Her heart jumped. "I thought-!"

"You all thought I had perished. You left." He began to walk towards her. "Just a tad too soon, I'm afraid."

"You were just gone!" Her gaze was unfocused, recalling all that she could about that day.

"Yes, well, shortly after you all took your careless leave- and believe me, I heard every last word of that emotional farewell." His voice glazed in sarcasm. "You all took off, just like that. Up into the sky. The Lost Boys followed suit and ran home to their unkempt mess of a tree, and as the dust settled, I tore out from within the crocks hollowed underbelly, freeing myself- and _my_, what an underwhelming evening _that_ turned out to be."

"So you're telling me you hid in that dead thing until a bunch of little kids peaced out?" She snorted.

"I'll have you know I took quite a blow to the head as that atrocious thing fell down upon me. I..." Hook rambled.

He knew the truth, but like all people, there is that one painfully embarrassing thing you never tell the truth about. _Not to anybody_. The truth in this case was simple. Hook became petrified- frozen- as the corpse of his worst nightmare rushed down from its secure display towards him. As the beast collided with the ground, a small tremor shook beneath his feet, sending him up into its throat. Hook proceeded to pathetically crawl deeper, whilst in absolute hysterics, looking for a way out, enveloped in the darkness.

He had managed to stay conscious during this whole hellish debacle, and did in fact hear the cheering and rejoicing of the Lost Boys just outside. He sat huddled within the creature, unable to move. The part about him bravely breaking free was false, too. In fact, Smee had been so distraught over the loss of his Captain, that in a drunken rage that night, he angrily walked himself out to the wreckage and kicked out the hardened gut of the giant crocodile, only to discover his Captain huddled in a fetal position, shaking like no man has ever shook.

It took a solid week of TLC from his trusty bo'sun, but Hook finally came around, having not spoken for the duration of that time. As hard as it was for Hook, the townspeople felt as though they were on some kind of extended holiday and spent most of the time drinking, dancing, and sleeping in. They knew full well their leader was back to his old self again when he waltzed into the Drunken Wench, eyes dark and pistol drawn, shooting the first man that he saw.

"Hey guy, listen. It's okay. Shit happens." Maggie could see the faint despair in his expression. It was a bit unfortunate. She had never seen his usual bursting confidence deflate like this. "I'm sorry."

Hook look astonished, "Why in the world are you apologizing?" He spat.

"I made it sound like you were some wimpy dude. Look at you. You're pretty stellar. I guess." Her buzzy brain dug for words.

_Stellar? Really?_

"Well, aside from the whole kidnapping me, holding me against my will, trying to kill my dad, going to war with ten year olds, sicking your attack crabs on me, gawking at my photos like a super creep, stealing my personal information..." She watched his face drop into a tired expression. "To name a few things."

"A pirate's life..." He waved his hand lazily.

"Nice excuse, Romeo." She spun around on one foot, in a sassy attempt to walk away from Hook's nonstop baloney, but she underestimated her condition, and tumbled down towards a cluttered table. Hook had been within arm's reach of her and quick-stepped to her aid. He shot his arm out, reaching around and grabbing Maggie just below her collar bones, catching her before she impaled herself on the sharply littered surface just below. He pulled himself in to steady her.

Maggie's head hung mere centimeters from an open bellied clock, its pointed cogs jetting out. She sighed. "Whoops..." Looking to her left she could see the captain's hook firmly latched onto the edge of the table, and felt his hand on her. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder when she turned her head, the cold air of the museum washing across her neck. It took a moment, but she knew exactly how he was standing. Just behind her. She felt her heart pump in the back of her throat.

"That was a bit of a close call. You awful, clumsy creature." Hook spoke, clearly disgruntled. That is, until Maggie's notoriously sweet feature made itself visible, greeting him silently as her hair gently fell to the side. The soft white rays of the moon provided just the right amount of light to illuminate her bare neck.

"That's so..." He grew silent. Then he remembered.

Maggie had no doubt about it now. She felt his warm breath on her as he spoke. He was even closer than she had realized. She began to turn herself around very slowly. Hook's hand held still, unmoving, sliding from her upper chest where he had caught her, around to her ridged shoulder blades. His hook still held firmly.

She was facing him. Locked between his arms.

Why hadn't he moved away.

He stood steadily still, looking her in the eyes. "Maggie."

"Yea?" She spoke very quietly.

"You were saying something. Upstairs."

"I was?"

"You said, "That's so...'ahdoor'." He softly enunciated the mystery word, his mouth stayed parted as he waited.

"Ador?" She looked down at his ruffled collar, feeling her face become increasingly warm the longer she looked at him. Her eyes crawled upwards slightly, avoiding his stare.

There.

His mouth again. The gap in his teeth.

_That's so fucking adora-_

A breathy whisper made its way out of her as she remembered what is was she was going to say, still gazing at his teeth, "Adorable."

Not once had anything pertaining to Hook ever been called that. Not for as long as he had lived. Hearing the word now was undoubtedly jarring. Such a childish and feminine word. But the way Maggie had said it. The look on her face. So sweet. Dazed. Dreamlike. It sent a surge through him. A knee buckling sensation struck, blood rushing with ferocity.

So dizzy now.

Maggie found herself suitably confused as to why she had said that word. Though...

_That's so... _

She had heard the same phrase leak from his mouth only seconds ago. It was her turn to ask.

"Tell me, " eyelids closing, "what you were going to say."

Her delicate voice continued to taunt his hungry aches. His hips threatened to close the gap between them.

He knew what she was referring to. Such an oddly similar comment. His concentration wavered. Should he say?

Instead, he slid his hand upwards, to the base of her neck. He knew that lovely mark was just beneath his fingers. His hand grazed across her soft hairline. Maggie's shoulders heaved upwards, goose bumps cascading down her arms. A sweet sound escaped her.

She hadn't meant to.

She shouldn't have.

"Mag-" He began, but the piercing sound of gunfire erupted from just outside.

Hook stiffened, listening. "What in the hell-!" His head jerked towards the window. He saw Smee stumbling down the dock just outside the tavern, incoherently yelling.

Hook painfully inhaled, tearing his claw out of the wooden table's surface with a sharp "_shick_!" He tromped to the door, ripped it open and bellowed so loudly that one of the clocks in the museum dropped to the floor, shattering into a spray of glass and metal bits.

"You worthless bucket of filth! What is this about!?"

In excited hysterics, Smee stomped the ground, "L-Lost Boys! Cap'n! Little bastards shot a damn rock into Lewis's good eye! Then Lewis shot! **BANG!** N' the little shits pushed him off the dock!" Smee imitated the blind pirate drowning, his arms flapping idiotically. "Gonna go find em'! They're around here somewhere!"

"OH for the love of GOD." Hook rubbed his forehead, his temple creasing around his fingers. The transition that had just occurred left him feeling a horrible dull ache, his body suffocating in adrenaline and arousal.

"Poor, POOR Lewis" Smee muttered as he jogged off, peeking behind barrels and kicking over sign posts.

"Will you EXCUSE me...a moment." Hook's voice trumpeted out of tune, exasperated. He gave Maggie one last, utterly longing look, and then stomped out the door, slamming it behind him.

Maggie was left in the dark room, completely alone and absolutely at a loss for what to think.

A second clock teetered off a high up shelf, and collided with the floorboards. Maggie yelped, her leg reeling back in fear. "FFFFFFFUCK!" The room grew quiet again, the sounds of Hook's footsteps no longer within range. Maggie stood, panting heavily, the scare just now sending her heart racing again. "I can't handle this shit." She made her way out of the rickety museum and clung to the banister for support as she treaded down the stairs and made her way to the dock.

_Click_

It had come from behind. Maggie spun around. It was Drusilla. Her eyes were swollen and red. Her voice cracked as she spoke.

"It's just _**not**_ fair, girly."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT! Owwwww!"

The gunshot was a loud crack. Maggie heard it, and was watching the smoke plume slowly rise up from the gun, when she realized she had been hit. A sharp pain seethed down her leg and around her hip. A frightening realization of excruciation struck her with intense ferocity. It hurt. Really really hurt. She wasn't familiar with this level of pain. Panic set in. She twisted, leaning on her good leg, and looked down. Her hands trembled as they darted about her dress, searching for the bullet's entry hole. Her fingers came across a frayed and darkened spot on her dress.

"Shit shit shit shit shit, god dammit..." She was gasping and muttering, yanking up on her dress. She was starting to shake all over now.

_What had been hit. How bad was it. How much blood would there be._

Cramming most of the dress into her arm, the gash could now be seen. The salty air of the night lightly blew on the newly revealed wound. There was quite a bit of blood. Maggie wasn't able to make out how bad the actual wound was, but the initial gore made her dread escalate dramatically.

"Oh damn!" Drusilla moaned. She began to prepare a second shot when something tiny collided with her vibrantly painted cheekbone. She let out a screech, and put her hand up to her face. Now at her feet, sat the culprit. It had been a rather lumpy pebble. Several feet away, from behind a cluster of barrels, popped up a mess of blonde hair and grungy top hat. Ace had delivered the blow, his trusty slingshot in hand.

"Little rat!" Her eyes watery and red, Drusilla rubbed her cheek, and readied her pistol, this time at the Lost Boy.

"You have bad aim, lady!" Ace taunted, before ducking back behind the large wooden barrels.

Drusilla fired, shrieking as she did so. The shot hit the rim of the barrel, making only a loud _sthump_!

"Told ya!" Came the boys voice from someplace nearby.

Drusilla howled angrily, stomping her heel on the dock in a childlike fashion.

Without warning, a bright light zipped by, leaving Drusilla no other choice than to look away for a moment. She blinked a few times, that same light now imprinted in front of her. "Eugh." She continued to flutter her lids in order to regain her sight more quickly. She could see Maggie just ahead, still fussing with her bloody leg.

"Fucking shiiiiiiiiiiiit!" Maggie hissed through the pain.

The light that had rushed past Drusilla was now headed straight for the Maggie. Drusilla quickly raised her gun once more, aiming with sloppy hesitation, and fired. It struck home, somewhere within the fluffy taffeta of the dress, and the girl yelped as she quickly toppled over the edge of the dock. A loud splash followed.

"Drusilla! What in the hell...!" Hook came upon the scene seconds later, his pace quick. He looked around, searching. "I heard gun fire! Where-"

Drusilla stood, as guilty as a child with a hand in the cookie jar. The pistol was still pointed outwards in her hands and smoking. She gasped and hid it behind her back. Too late.

Hook looked to where she had been aiming. A feeling of dread swept over him. There was blood upon the boards, and very nearby, sat a small little somebody that he recognized.

"Miss Bell!" Hook's eyes widened at the sight before him, and he made his way to her. His shadow fell across the sad slouching shoulders of the tiny fairy. Her delicate, iridescent wings trembled slightly. "What are you doing here?" He snapped, with worried befuddlement.

"She's-" Tink sniffled, dropping her head down low, and shaking it slowly.

"Where is Maggie!?" He shouted, looking towards the museum, then back down to Tink.

"She's DEAD!" Her voice broke apart, sending her into a frightfully heartbreaking chorus of sobs. "That horrible woman of yours...She-!" She buried her in one palm, with an accusing finger pointed outwards towards the jealous blonde.

Hook felt a wave of utter shock, and ran to the edge of the stained dock, searching over the side into the murky abyss below. "Where is she?" He kept staring into the darkness, torn between wanting to see her shape out there, and being greeted with nothing in hopes she was elsewhere. Alive.

The latter. He saw nothing. Just the glistening black waves.

Drusilla puckered her lips and took a step back. "I-I didn't...I would NEVER do such a th-" She hesitated with her words.

"LIAR! You shot her!" Tinkerbell whipped her head up with ferocity, sending a dagger filled gaze in Drusilla's direction.

Hook spun around to stare Drusilla down in a very intimidating manner. He slowly moved towards her, "You what?" His voice pitted with a steady rage. "Ohhh Drusilla, tell me you didn't do something SO stupid." Hook bared his teeth.

_She was all that was left._

Drusilla's wide eyes darted from Tink to Hook, her lipsticked mouth trembling. A hot woe rushed over her, and she felt the weight of both sets of eyes, "She was going to kill you Captain! Truly! I had to protect you!" She stumbled towards Hook and clung to his coat, pulling him down to her. "Please please! My Captain, please believe me!" She pressed her face against his chest and began to pout, still pulling on him to keep the distance between them closed. He yanked himself away, making Drusilla's balance unsteady. Her knees wobbled and she gracefully sank into a sitting position. "My darling Captain!" She sobbed, reaching out to him.

_Who do I trust. _

_Where is she. _

He was appalled. Confused. Straightening his coat, he spoke, "Tinkerbell! What happened here!? You better start explaining, and fast." He was growing more and more agitated, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest.

"I told you! It was all her! I can't tell you why she did it, but I saw it...I..." She began to weep again, gasping for air in little hiccups.

Smee came tromping around the corner, his boots bringing up dust from the dirty path leading up to the dock. "Where'd they get off to?!" He shouted, turning his head frantically.

"SMEE!" Hook bellowed so suddenly, Smee jumped back, tripping over his own feet. "Gather every man in town! Wake them up, kick them out of the bar, I don't care what it takes! You get them ALL out searching! Maggie has gone missing!" He hustled towards the short man, eyes unmoving.

"She run away on ye'?" He gasped.

"No, but she's most likely injured! Hurt! Search the shores! IMMEDIATELY!" Hook's shouts were desperate and demanding. He snarled his order and took off on his own. Smee chased after, reaching his Captain's heels, when suddenly Hook stopped dead in his tracks, turned, and looked to where Drusilla sat, crumpled on the ground. "HER." He pointed a rigid finger in her direction. "Put her somewhere, Smee. Somewhere where I won't have to look at her for a while. She's in a world of trouble." He growled.

Drusilla's face hung in heartbroken awe, never having been spoken to like that by her darling James Hook. "But I didn't!" She lied, holding out for any sympathy. Regret began to sink in. The clouds of jealousy had driven her to desperate measures...and now! What had she done? Hook was frighteningly upset with her. She had never felt so sick in all her life. This was all her fault! That horrible Maggie Banning.

Smee was equally as surprised. "Cap'n?"

"You heard me! Keep an eye on her until I get back." Hook sent one last distorted frown Drusilla's way before he continued his trek to the beach. The sounds of Drusilla's congested blubbering playing him off as he went.

Smee turned, frowning intensely, "What in the blazes did you DO?"


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

"Hold your breath!" Tink hollered, coming in fast, just as Drusilla's shaky finger pulled the trigger.

**_CRACK!_**

Tink hastily yanked Maggie from behind by her bustle, tipping the girl right off the dock, and into the darkness below. The third bullet hastily tore through Maggie's large dress and out the back, splashing a ways off, never to be found.

The water was absolutely freezing. Maggie clamped her eyes closed, and beat her arms upwards, in an attempt to break the surface of the water. Her bewildered thoughts fought over one another, forming a devastating moment of pure dread. Maggie's drunken reaction times, the intense pain of the bullet wound, and the biting cold water that tingled dreadfully all over her skin, all converged into horrendous thoughts of drowning in agony. Her heart leapt desperately in her chest.

A few moments passed, the sound of her panicked strokes sending bubbly rushes of muffled noise to her submerged ears. Still under. Maggie kept on, her arms wobbly pumped through the water as fast as she could manage, while a hot burn pinched her lungs, begging her to inhale.

Her face arrived first. Breaking the surface, Maggie felt the icy air upon her cheeks and mouth. She gasped deeply, taking in the fresh night air, feeling a mixture of shock, relief, and a general appreciation for the oxygen. She opened her eyes and was met with only a heavy darkness. Parts of the silhouetted dock could be seen, as well as the crisp pattern of stars that were scattered across the sky above. She wasn't sure if she could feel the pain in her leg now or not. She was overwhelmed. Scared. Freezing. Her legs kicked, but no ground was met. She bobbed, dunking her head and taking in water. She rotated quickly, looking for something to grab onto- when somebody suddenly grabbed her by the arm and pulled her under the dock. She was then being pushed. She could smell the old dock well now. Maggie's body washed up against a slimy wood piling, and she latched onto it with both arms, hoarsely catching her breath. The mysterious hand then went from her back to her mouth.

"_Shhhhh_!" Glistening eyes met Maggie's from the shadows, and as she began to focus, she could see that it was an unfamiliar young boy. Don't Ask. He kept his hand firmly pressed against her mouth for a moment before nodding. Once she understood, he moved his hand away. Silence. Both held onto the piling and waited, the incoming waves gently pushing them about. Maggie could hear something coming close to them through the water. She turned her head in surprise, eyes darting about and searching. Another unrecognizable face drew near. It was Ace.

"_Tink said to wait until they're gone, then we can get back to the others_!" Ace whispered to both Maggie and Don't Ask.

"_Well I hope to scoot sooner rather than later, it's freezing in here..."_ Don't Ask's teeth quietly chattering as he spoke.

"_W-w-who the f-f-f-fuck are y-y-you_." Maggie now realized how cold she was once she tried to talk. Her lips were numb, and she found it obnoxiously hard to pronounce the words, being both mildly intoxicated and freezing.

"_We're Lost Boys. We're with T-Tink_." Ace answered in a very breathy voice, keeping quiet. He was looking up through the slotted wood of the dock above.

"_Y-yea, she needed help saving you, so keep it down and hang on, we'll get you out of here s-s-soon_." Don't Ask chipped in, lifting a hand to his mouth and breathing onto it for some temporary warmth.

"_R-r-r-right_, _but y-y-you're like, f-f-five_." Maggie clenched her teeth. The last thing she was in the mood for was meeting more absurd individuals. She had had her fair share.

Maggie's body was sending her a mix of signals, her injury being one of them. She could now feel the sharp ache through her cold, dulled hip. She was still shaking all over, and not just from her dropping body temperature. She had never been shot before, and that was taking an interesting toll on her mind. She wasn't even sure if she had been hit again or not. She was absolutely unsettled from the hectic turn of events.

_When the fuck will this day be over._

Above them now was the sound of thumping footfalls. All three below the dock fell silent.

"Drusilla! What in the hell...!" Hook's voice echoed.

"Hoo-!" Maggie's trembling voice erupted, calling out to him.

Don't Ask's hand slapped against her face, his dirty little fingers smashing into her cheeks. His eyes were incredibly wide.

"Mmf!?" Maggie questioningly murmured.

"_He'll kill us all! Shutup_!" The worried boy begged.

Maggie had no idea the reason behind any of this. Thinking back to how she even ended up in this situation hurt her brain. True, Hook had been a less than desirable fellow the moment she arrived...then again she was less than pleasant in return. For all she knew, she was on fairly good terms with him by the end of the day. Perhaps very good, in fact. She found herself wanting to swim out, pull herself up onto the dock, and tell him what that over powdered psycho had done. He'd help her, wouldn't he? The fact she had to weigh it so heavily all of a sudden made her second guess the idea. Her mind was far from clear. Maybe he had meant for her to be attacked by Drusilla. Or maybe Drusilla was just genuinely insane. Maggie zoned out, only tuning in sporadically to register the gross sea goo that slid beneath her fingertips.

"Where is Maggie!?" Hook's voice bellowed again from up above.

Maggie felt torn. She waited, her gut cramped.

"She's DEAD!" It was Tink. Her tiny voice sounded surprisingly loud.

_She doesn't know that..._

Maggie's mind tried to make sense of the outburst.

More footsteps.

Maggie and the boys looked up. The thin gaps in the boards darkened as the footfalls drew closer to the edge of the dock. Hook was standing just at the edge, directly above them. Maggie could hear him breathing.

"Where is she?" Hook spoke.

The urge to speak came again. She hesitated, her mouth partly opened and trembling.

Drusilla shrieked from above them, "I would NEVER."

"LIAR! You shot her!" Tinkerbell's mighty voice tore through the cold night.

Maggie understood now. They were faking her death. Right in front of her. Tink knew she was alive.

_Tink, make my kids glow_.

Maggie had a brief flashback. Tink wasn't the one to fear. She wasn't out to cause Maggie harm. She remembered. The small fairy had soared around her, that pearly white smile wide across her face. Tinkerbell had made her fly. The ground had grown further and further away as her younger self rose up into the clouds that enveloped her and Jack. The island was so tiny from up there.

_Bless you child..._

"_Son of a bitch_." Maggie whispered. The memories struck her with vibrant ferocity. She hadn't been able to recall anything from that day for years. Not until she returned. It was as if the air in Neverland were different, filling her mind with visions of some past life she had briefly lived. It shook her.

More memories bubbled up. With a sinister sneer, Hook had drawn that dagger from his sleeve and attacked her father, right before her eyes. How she could have forgotten, she truly didn't know. Maggie's heart began to pound. She became flush with anger. Embarrassment. She felt foolish for falling for his act. His schmoozing and seduction- whatever it had been.

_The drinks_!

"_Ughh..."_ She lowered her head for a moment, feeling completely stupid. Of course he knew just how to get to her. He had her whole life on paper. She fell right into his trap. He had gotten into her head, theoretical lock pick and all. All it took was a few smirks, a buffet table, and copious amounts of booze. He had literally starved her right into his clutches.

Dreadful cries suddenly erupted from Drusilla. Maggie rolled her eyes and mumbled, "_Fucking bitch"._

_"_ Search the shores! IMMEDIATELY!" A clearly upset Hook demanded.

"_Time to g-g-goooo_!" Don't Ask shivered.

"_Let's move_!" Ace gestured with his hand before carefully paddling towards the shore. Maggie and Don't Ask followed suit.

All Maggie could think as she weakly made her way through the chilling ocean waters was how badly she wanted to knee Captain James Hook right where it counted. A close second that darted in and out of her mind was a space heater.

Maggie's foot finally struck land, the tip of her shoe digging into the soft sand below. She was so exhausted that she spent what was left of her energy puffing up her chest and giving up a few more wide armed strokes. She lazily surfed onto the shore before her.

The two boys had already bounded up the beach, making _'brring'_ noises, twitching their soggy arms. A third boy popped up from the bushes lining the forest just beyond, "I heard gun shots! You guys okay?" It was No Nap, his eyes wide but relieved from seeing his fellow comrades return in one piece.

"Yea, we're fine- not sure about Maggie though! Glad you were here standing watch, looks like we might need all the help we can get carrying her back." Ace gestured to the beach where a crumpled Miss Banning resided.

Maggie's body was completely void of feeling. Her toes were thick tingling stumps that hardly reacted to her thoughts of movement. She tried to take care of some stringy wet hair that clung to her face, but her hand did not arrive in a timely matter. It came very slowly, it's touch not registering upon her frozen face. The salt on her lips was unpleasant, and as she licked them, she was alarmed to not feel them at all, as if she had been injected with novocain. She propped herself onto her knees as best she could and moved forward. Her dress was the heaviest thing she could have ever imagined.

Everything was miserable. Anything would have been better than this moment, she thought. As she slowly crawled up the beach, trying to reach the two boys, Maggie finally collapsed, her face making a single _pat_ on the wet sand. She exhaled, closed her eyes, and thought of home...


	25. Chapter 25

_So, wow- hey guys! Has it been a year already? Something like that...!_

_So, I could't stress enough to the worried writers, who's notes I receive on the monthly, that this story was FAR from over! Though, as life does, it gets incredibly busy (in the good and bad kind of ways!) which left me with no time to sit down and properly write more of this story. However, it certainly wasn't all for not, as it gave me a lot of time to stew on a solid direction to go with this. I had juggled so many plots and it's nice to have settled on something (I'm hoping) you'll all enjoy! I'm rather excited to share the rest of this with you, and I feel this chapter is the start of the story I really wanted to tell- it just took a LONG time to get to this point! You're all well aware of my inability to rush by now! Ha!_

_As always, thank you so much for sticking around and having such incredible patience! I talk with a lot of you on DeviantArt and Tumblr, and I always have so much fun hearing your thoughts and knowing the Hoff Hook fandom is refreshed and lively! The internet is better for it, in my opinion! That seriously brings a big dumb smile to my face! It's beyond wonderful to have HookxMaggie become such an enjoyed and supported ship (never would have guessed)! Watch out Wendy! _

_This is more fun than I ever could have imagined, and it certainly wouldn't be as awesome without the readers who enjoy it all as much as I do! _

_Here's to another year of this silliness- may the holidays bring even more chapters!_

_Enjoy!_

Chapter 25

The sun was sinking with a slow tranquility, the warm gradients sizzling in the sky above Neverland. Shadows began to creep across the scarred wood of the Captain's desk as night began it's takeover. Black tendrils hung limply about the surface, covering an array of wrinkled papers and various trinkets. Hook hung his head, uninspired. It was quiet all around, spare the creaks as lazy waves shifted the Jolly Roger ever so slightly beneath him.

The days rolled on wards in dull monotony ever since her death. First it was a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and infuriating regrets- all pooled together, yanking at the man's spiteful heart and then it was gone, as quickly as it had all happened. In a manner of ways, it was truly a relief. It had passed. He was somehow free. Empty- but free.

Better yet, these days, with the lonesome darkness, came true intrigue. For several weeks now, Pirate Town had been hit hard with curious activity. Items of various value, shapes, and sizes had started to disappear without a trace. Concerned residents clamored to Hook's chambers in a fury and ready to raid the first place the dagger handed leader would point them. No such luck, however. The brooding buccaneer only lay in wait.

_Patience!_ He would demand. This was something to get excited about. As to whom may be causing the ruckus was unknown, though, that's what made it so intriguing to him. He had a good feeling the Lost Boys were the culprits behind it. They had been known for petty thievery before, and this was no different. No, just a lot more audacious.

They wanted to up the risk it seemed, and Hook was more than happy to oblige- perhaps they were just as bored as him these days? The only interesting thing to come their way had long since disappeared, leaving them virtually no other means of entertainment.

"I encourage it." Hook would grin as Smee paced back and forth before him.

"But Cap'n...! The town is almost dried up! There's hardly a speck of gold left! They're like phantoms! How they do it is beyond me!"

"Put your frustrations to rest, my dear Smee. We'll reveal our bandits soon."

Hook had thought about this for a while now, and he was more than excited to execute his plans to catch the sticky fingered Lost Boys in their tracks, once and for all. It was hard to tell if he was even upset about the entire ordeal. It was blinding before- his rage. He couldn't stand the thought of those children getting away with so many things. It made him feel like a dolt. He had envisioned them all sitting around the Nevertree, dumping loads upon loads of pilfered goods into a pile and having a dandy laugh at his expense. Ah, but that was all about to end.

"Captain!" The door to Hook's chambers swung open, slamming into the wall with a deep thud. Hook's head shot up, the black curls receding from the table and into his lap. "They're here." Smee said with borderline fright. It seemed the anticipation had gotten to him as well.

"Quickly then, to the deck." Hook's grin pulled across his face, revealing a sinister smile.

The sound of sharp echoing steps were the only sound as the Captain made his way outside. All was eerily quiet.

"There's not much else for you to take, I'm afraid!" Hook hollered into the night, his eyes scanning the silhouetted darkness beyond him. Only the slapping of the ocean upon the side of the docks answered him.

"Cap'n!" Smee's frantic whisper came from behind. Hook turned to look at him. The stout man held his finger up towards the lowest mast. Taking a moment to search, Hook's eyes landed on something. A tall, cloaked figure stood motionless, high above.

"Ahhh." Hook mused, straining his neck ever so slightly. A giddy joy overcame him, as the familiar symbol landed in his sights. It took him back to the time he truly felt alive. He knew it couldn't possibly be Pan, but it would certainly suffice. Now to catch them.

"Why don't you come down here then? See about plundering my cabin? There may be some things you would fancy."

No answer- only the cloak billowing quietly in the dark. The figure unmoving.

"Well, perhaps you're simply afraid of heights? Allow me to assist in getting you down!" Hook smiled yet again, knowing full well how substantially prepared he was for tonight. From behind the heavy hanging sail appeared one of his men, only the glint of his knife visible from the deck far below. He seemed to be closing in on the intruder, but Pan-like visitor had heard the quiet footfalls and turned quickly. All Hook could see were some vague movements, which included something being thrown quite fiercely. The yelp of his crewman prompted the the rest of Hook's thugs to jump out of hiding, all taking to the base of the mast to apprehend the mysterious interloper. Hook began a very slow descent on the stairs, keeping his eyes on the busy scene overhead.

The intruder managed fairly well to evade the swinging blades of the various pirates. They all mounted the mast from the taut ladder below. Grasping wildly, the cloaked figure hurled themselves to a nearby rope and swung to the opposite mast, which was not yet crawling with Hook's men. The quick moving form then began to scale their way down to the deck and bolt towards the dock ramp.

"You won't get far, boy!" Hook bellowed, as the trespasser disappeared from view. He came to a halt. His foot had tapped something. It was a rather roughed up baseball. It rolled lazily to one side, it's red strings looking worn and frazzled.

Hook picked it up and began turning it over in his hand. He was still, mouth agape. It couldn't be, could it?

"...Jack." He whispered, then laughed deeply. This was even better than he could have imagined.

Hook knew the layout of the town better than anybody. He had clever shortcuts that even Smee didn't know about. He could get to the other side of town half the time it took one of his lackeys to run, which was one thing that utterly horrified his men- keeping them on their best behavior. If anybody was attempting to escape, Hook would happily meet them at the exit for a proper farewell.

He took behind a rotted out tree stump on the edge of town. It marked the shadowed and ominous opening to the jungle. He waited for the sounds of hurried feet making their way across the wooden ramp._ 1...2...3... _Hook counted in his head. He then swung out around the stump, digging his heels into the soft ground as he went, and stiffened his arm- preparing for the collision. There was a garbled screech, followed by a grunt as the stranger fell into a pile before him. Hook shook his arm, "Not as solid as I figured you'd be."

Hook straightened himself, dusting off his cuff. He moved towards the figure, who was still concealed beneath the crumpled cloak, which shook and shivered as coughs erupted from underneath. Catching a better look at his new nemesis in the moonlight, Hook could see that the roughed up cloak was haphazardly quilted with a variety of different fabrics, of many textures and patterns- all very desaturated. The feet sticking out were composed of messily wrapped boots and buttons, stained with dried mud and grass stains. The cape's hood was spread over the wearer's head, and only a frail wrist could be seen poking out, a piece of ragged leather wrapped around it. The fingers that lay motionless were dirty and scrapped up.

Hook closed in, his grin almost aching. He hadn't been this ecstatic since his close encounters with Peter himself all those years ago. He was almost face to face with this warmly welcomed impostor.

"Bravo! I mean that sincerely, my boy! I couldn't even write something as delightfully mouthwatering as this." Hook tightened the weapon upon his wrist. "Little Jack Banning, left behind. The loss of your sister driving you into a rage fueled journey for revenge! Ah yes, and here you are now, King of the Lost Boys, I imagine- thieving and causing quite a ruckus for old Captain Hook. Color me impressed! Your efforts certainly didn't go unnoticed!" His glossy heels neared the mound of person only inches away. "It's truly a shame though, you know. About your sister." He readied his cold claw, knelt to one knee, and grabbed the shoulder of his prey. Hook then wrenched the body over. "You never got to say goodbye to-" The cape's hood fell open, a head lulled to one side. Wide blue eyes met his.

"Maggie!" A harsh whisper escaped him.

She wheezed, eyes flickering. "Son of a bitch...!" She haphazardly rolled up to a sitting position, shooing Hook away. Her hood lazily fell down around her neck, revealing a messy bun, full of tangled, almond hair. Maggie coughed again, still catching her breath from being clothes lined by the infamous pirate. "Ughhhouch!" Her hands cradled her chest now, her nose scrunching from the pain.

"You're alive." Hook dryly stated.

"No shit, buttfuck."

"But...months have gone by. Nothing. Not a sign..." He clamored for words. Visions of Maggie plummeting off the dock played in his mind. Hours of scouring the beaches for days afterwards, his heart racing at any sign of her. All hope dwindling with the stars as the sun rose.

"Did you have to do that?" Her breaths were fragmented and hoarse. Hook only stared, his famous brow furrow on full display. "Christ, just help me up already." Maggie tossed her head back, irritated. He did as she instructed, in a thoughtless motion, still processing the scene before him.

Maggie grasped his hand tightly as she pulled herself up. Hook steadied himself as she rose, only staring down at her in troubled silence.

"You thought I was Jack?" She looked up at him now.

She sounded distant at first, and Hook replied with a rather noticeable delay. "Yes." He cleared his throat and started again. "Yes, It seemed probable, given the...clues." He looked back to the ship in the distance, still reeling the night's events.

"Well, thanks for playing, but I'm not dead, nor am I a guy." Maggie's voice quivered slightly. She looked up into Hook's face, frowned with a troubling gasp, and blurted, "Whelp! Gotta run!" Maggie let go of Hook's velvety gloved hand with a bit of a pull, her cloak kicking up behind her as she turned. She took off into the thick woods, faintly coughing as she went.

Hook hadn't the energy or mental capacity to bother giving chase. He had to stew on everything. This had blown wide open all the walls he had mortared so carefully since her untimely passing. A false passing, no less. He felt wronged. Foolish. All this time, she resided so close without his knowledge. All those nights he spent carefully erasing her from his mind, yet she slept soundly just across the water. Each thought of her that would race through his mind was painful back then. There she had been, warm in his arms for mere seconds. It all washed away in livid waves of resentment, knowing full well now that she was in and out of Pirate Town dozens of times- stealing right from under his nose. Ohh, he was upset. He was very very upset.

An anger that bubbled with acidic embarrassment pounded through his veins. He clenched his fist, thinking of those nights he lay wide awake, tossing and turning, wondering where her body had gotten to. The horrors it had endured all those weeks later. Rotting, decaying, festering. She was gone- without a word. Dead. Or so he thought.

His fist tightened further.

It was then that he noticed his most favored ring was no longer on his finger.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

The woods were unfathomably dark. As black as pitch. Silent and eerie. Maggie tore through endless growth and leafage, tearing her palms wide open as she went. The branches sliced and dug into her. Her feet were slowed by knots of weeds beneath her. It was as if they were consciously tugging on her. Mid stride, she toppled over, twisting herself oddly as her feet were held, unable to move. As she landed, the frayed ground continued to consume her. She yanked at them helplessly, but to no avail. The foliage was like tight strands of rope, holding her still. She was soon forced to lie uncomfortably, her head resting on the cold ground. Soon her neck was as stiff and unmovable as the rest of her, cramping painfully.

"Such a shame." A voice rose out of the darkness, though she could not see where it had come from. She could only see the lurking shadows of the forest floor.

"Neverland will never let you go." The jagged voice washed upon her available ear, with a warm breath. She could feel the entity hanging over her, coming ever closer. Maggie was not afraid. In fact, she wanted to turn around so badly and face her visitor. To yell. Scream. Yet, she still could not free herself. Her body was tied and powerless against the restraining nature that viciously clung to her.

He was closer now. The tip of his nose brushed her cheek. "Do not be afraid. Simply give in. Let go, Maggie."

_Hook._

Maggie felt a warm rush seize her entire body. How badly she wanted to break free of her captive state. She imagined the sound of roots giving way and tearing. Those frail snaps. She pulled with all her might, feeling her wrists burn and ache. Numbness slowly creeped into her extremities in a ghostly manner. One of her weakened limbs pulled free, the ground releasing her in moist clumps that scattered about.

Feeling out into the darkness, she was met quite quickly with the man's figure. An arm, a shoulder, a soft silk neckerchief. Maggie finally rested her hand around Hook's neck. Unable to move herself upwards, she pulled him down even closer.

"Please..." She whispered. "Help me." Her anger slowly subsiding as his body pressed near hers. She was exceptionally frustrated, and incredibly confused by her sudden arousal. Emotions aside, she was dreadfully uncomfortable, overall. Her numb arm still clung to him, but it felt wrong. Cold.

"Help." She weakly croaked. She could feel her neck and twisted torso crying out in agony. She wished she could just move, _move- move- it hurts so bad._

Eyes opening, heavy and clumsy lids blinked into the bright sunlight that shone upon them. Maggie twitched, gasping with a tired relief. She rolled over, freeing her arm that she had been sleeping on, and straightened out her back. She lie there a moment, breathing quite heavily. She flopped her sleeping arm around on the bed, waiting for her fingertips to begin to tingle. The heavy meat of her suffocated arm felt bizarre as she prodded it with her free hand.

Her spine relaxed, telling her of its hours of endured discomfort. She arched her back, stretching out the biting cramps that ran amok through her stiff vertebrae. "Ughhh." She grumbled, still blinking, eyes partially closed. She rubbed them deeply.

The thoughts of her odd dream slowly leaking down her memorie's drain as she roused herself.

_Hook._

Maggie threw her body upwards into a sitting position, gasping as she went. Her chest was remarkably achy. Hook had done a good job last night. His attempt to stop her was more than successful, and completely uncalled for.

"Fuck." She rubbed her chest now, feeling where the tender bruises now resided around her chest and collar bones. She pulled open her shirt and gazed down at herself to see if what she felt was visible. Nothing more than some redness at the moment. She was confident time would bring about the purples and greys.

Maggie exhaled with all her might, her lips loosely flapped like a tired child.

Her little room in the Nevertree was the epitome of Lost Boy couture. She had taken the liberty of decorating, but the tree house walls, made of thatched wood, was a staple among the tiny homes.

Her bed was a pile of wilted palm leaves, straw, and various furs. It was a cozy lump in which to sleep.

Beside the bed was a makeshift driftwood nightstand that was covered with a variety of stolen goods she favored the most. She had smuggled a stunning, golden figurine of the Greek Goddess Artemis. It was displayed proudly where she would awaken to it each day. All about its heavy base were many sparkling jewels and accessories. Maggie would wear some just for the hell of it, but most times, she simply enjoyed keeping them strewn about.

She used a broken statue hand, a very elegant and feminine one at that, to display her favorite rings. They were stacked and shining gloriously. At the top of the statue's middle finger sat her newest piece. A dark silver skull stared at her with it's ruby eyes. Hook's prized ring. It stood out among the rest of her things quite glaringly.

The thought of her holding this item hostage tickled her. She always wondered just how upset Hook was about it- and how much more enraged he'd be if he knew what fate had befallen it. Unfortunately for her, the crème de la crème of her collection did not fit any of her thin and delicate fingers. How would she rub it in his face properly when she next faced him?

Standing up finally, Maggie's kneecaps popped as she rose into a full body stretch. Her now alert arm joined it's companion in the air. She clasped her hands together and squeaked as she yanked them slowly away from her. Her toes fled in the opposite direction, standing her up on her tip toes for a short moment.

Relaxing, she dropped her arms, and began to make her way across the room, the tingling of the strain feeling ridiculously good as it moved through her muscles.

Maggie peered down at her pile of clothes, muddied and torn. They'd need to be washed, she thought. "What a pain in the-"

"Hey! You're awake! You know, I was going to say something to you last night but you looked so exhausted. I was just glad you made it back in one piece!" Tink had floated in, jingling pleasantly.

"Yes, the Great Lost Girl returned." Maggie replied without looking, as she dug through her laundry.

"I told you to maybe take it easy...but."

"Yea yea. You know, I figured it would only be a matter of time before Captain Dick Butt would get everybody in on an ambush. So what!? I got greedy. C'est la vie, Tinky Dinky!" Maggie threw her arms up dramatically, grinning as she went. Her ratty cape was flung over her shoulder and she moved towards the doorway of her cabin. She suddenly stopped and stared at the skull ring on the table.

"Very funny," Tink continued, "but you know- for how much you make fun of the Pirates, they CAN be tough to handle in larger numbers. Just be careful, okay? You don't HAVE to go out alone all the time." Tink's brows turned upwards, pleading.

"Yeeep. I haven't been caught yet though- have I?" Maggie grabbed the ring and a nearby necklace, unhooking it's clasp and letting the pendant slip off onto the table with a clink. "I even got this- and I had to get up close and personal. Still alive!" Maggie threaded the gold chain through the ring's finger hole. It fell heavily and pulled taut, swinging in the air. "Gonna wear it with pride too, really rub salt in the wound." She slipped the necklace on.

Before exiting, Maggie extended her palm and spanned the room with it, directing Tink's attention to her golden haul that filled the space. "Behold my glorious bounty, pixie girl!" She spoke in a ridiculous pirate accent.

Tink shook her head and laughed, "I know you hate to hear all of my moaning and groaning, but it's my job! Somebody has to say it!"

"-and you do a wonderful job, mother. Thank you. Now- if you'll kindly excuse the 'Plunder Princess', she needs a bath."


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Maggie lazily galloped down the crooked steps that wrapped from the top of the Nevertree, where her apartment resided, and around to the base of the jungle floor. On her way, the path flattened out into several offshoots of boardwalks. Lost Boys passed by here and there, all carrying out their day in various fashion; some hauling kindling and dry brush for the fire pit, and others avoiding their individual chores, clearly on their way to the canopied basketball court.

"Well, if it isn't the leader himself!" Maggie called out, a smile riding on her words. Up ahead in a small and messy alcove, hunched over a broken skateboard, was Thudd Butt. A young Lost Boy sat patiently at his feet, waiting to get his toy back. Thudd Butt looked up, his cheeks dimpling joyfully before his head was even fully lifted.

Thudd Butt had been crowned king of the Lost Boys upon Peter's departure, twenty years ago. With the unfortunate passing of their audacious and long time leader, Rufio, somebody had to take over as head of house. Peter had entrusted the kindhearted sailor clad boy with this role via his personal sword. This is something Thudd Butt never took lightly, and always remembered as his proudest moment. He led each new day with the utmost pride.

The Lost Boys all adored Thudd Butt. He was incredibly well respected, ruled justly, and cared very deeply about each and every boy. Truly a friend to all; new arrivals, and long time members alike. He had even strengthened the long forgotten companionship between them and Neverland's native tribe that resided in the deep green woodlands, on the other side of the island.

Post Peter Pan, the boys never really had the ability to keep that relationship. They were rather weak, and even when Rufio took over, he was too headstrong to go looking for help elsewhere. Peter had won the native's trust by way of saving Tiger Lily many years ago, and their bond alone kept the cordiality between the two groups as strong as it had ever been. Before then, they really weren't interested in social connections and comraderies, as they were rather private.

With Peter's absence, however, they returned to their lives, and quietly faded off the radar of both the Pirates and the Lost Boys. What they were up to, or if they even wanted to be involved with the (seemingly personal) struggles between Pirates versus Lost Boys, was unknown to the majority of Neverland locals. It never seemed like an issue in which to look into, but feeling a bit vulnerable overall, Thudd Butt worried about the Pirates coming after the Lost Boys and thus reached out to their reclusive neighbors for protection. He thought it best to do whatever it took to gain the friendship of the tribe by any means necessary. The trading of stolen goods was the best way of doing so, and Maggie had been a phenomenal asset in regards to this. The Lost Boys had little to no means of fair trade otherwise.

While the Lost Boys could count on their imaginations to keep their bellies full, not everybody in Neverland, especially the adults, were capable of this. Therefore, physical food was a very real and important necessity to Tiger Lily and her tribe. With her father recently slain by Hook, she had, by her own decision, become leader of her people, and agreed to communicate with the Lost Boys in order to come to some sort of agreement. It was a good deal in respects to her tribe, and her shot at revenge against the Captain himself.

The pirates had encroached on the tribe's hunting grounds over the years and food was becoming somewhat sparse in that area. With the Lost Boys help, their supply of good eats was well stocked. Not only that, but they enjoyed the occasional gifts of golden jewelry, sparkling gems, and quality garments that were enthusiastically ransacked from Pirate Town.

The second deal Thudd Butt added into the mix was the offer to collaborate on armor and weapons, these skills of which, the Lost Boys held in very high esteem. They were all very proud of their past raids on Pirate Town, to say the very least. The natives were happy to oblige, and with a firm handshake, Tiger Lily and Thud Butt officiated the strong partnership with the entirety of both sides gathered around to witness.

They had a fine system, indeed. If the Pirates ever wanted to go head to head with the Lost Boys, there was an entire army ready to leap to their defense. Thudd Butt could rest easy knowing his boys were safe.

"Hi Maggie! I heard about your solo mission last night- close call, huh?" He asked, gazing back down at the wobbly skateboard wheel.

"Nahh! Hook kept his boys up too late. Those guys couldn't catch a goat in molasses. I'm a tiny bit embarrassed for all of them, honestly. Had to sacrifice my baseball, though."

"Aw really? Jack's baseball? I was there the day he sent that thing soaring from Pirate Town to the Nevertree. I'll let the other boys know to keep an eye out for it!"

"That would be awesome, actually! Thanks Thudd!" Maggie had kept walking during this time, but slowed down and worked her way backwards as she chatted. With the quick greeting out of the way, she spun forward again and continued on the path.

Reaching the base of the Nevertree, Maggie jumped the last few feet, hitting the dirt with a _'thwump', _her heels digging into the ground. As she straightened, she saw something roll past her, sparkling as it went. It came to rest by several leaves. Bending over to pick it up, she smiled, and said, "Tootles, careful bud- don't want to lose this." She rolled it back in the direction it had came, where it greeted its owners leg.

The little elderly man sat on his knees, surrounded by a handful of Lost Boys, all engrossed in a game of marbles. His toothless smile was his response to her, and he nodded his head as to say thanks, his frazzled white hair following through lazily. He wore a tattered sweater decorated with various trinkets and shells, and always donned his feather headband that was made for him upon his return. In short, he was quite the character and stood out like a sore tumb, but he was a beloved Lost Boy, all the same.

Tootles had left for Neverland just as Maggie and Jack were delivered back to Grandmother Wendy's. He had happily reunited with the Lost Boys, and spent his days taking it easy and channeling his youthful side as best he could. He was energetic for his age, but considerably slow on the physical front. He was often found with the younger Lost Boys, who enjoyed his stories and games. Between him and Thudd Butt, they were a lot like Wendy, what with their calm an caring nature. The Lost Boys clung to them like glue.

Maggie had been so surprised to see his familiar face when she returned, that if anything, he was an odd comfort. He didn't speak much, unless he was feeling extra wise and sagely. His face did most of the talking on it's own. Tootles was, at most times, just one of the kids, and nobody questioned it. For all he knew, he was back where he belonged.

Maggie continued on, nodding and greeting the rest of the boys as she passed them. Just another day in Neverland. Nothing but the aches of last night's adventures caught her attention, so in attempts to answer them, she was taking herself down to the hot spring that resided in an nicely ensconced location near the base of the mountain. It was in the thick of the jungle, and not too far a walk from the Nevertree. From what she gathered during her visits there in the past, was that it was a quiet and undisturbed place. Far enough from hunting grounds, and a nice escape for some well needed privacy. Away from the gaggle of rowdy adolescents. Maggie enjoyed her alone time just as much as she did back home. Some things never change.

In fact, that had struck her, as well as the others, as a very odd thing. Once again, Maggie held on tight to her memories of home (_rather reluctantly, mind you_), the romance and freedom of Neverland not quite taking hold. Even within the first few days of being in Neverland, past visitors and Lost Boys have all been known to forget rather quickly. Maggie on the other hand baffled Tink considerably with her inability to 'let go'.

"I swear, if I could, I would. There's not a whole lot I'm too jazzed about remembering back home anyway. I couldn't forget last time either." She would explain. There were, unfortunately, no answers to this, for even Tootles had completely forgotten London himself. The only memory he had kept was that of Wendy, and even then, it was the young Lost Boys mother that he had in mind, not the elderly woman he had lived the majority of his life with.

After a while it became a nuisance to try and figure it out, and Maggie considered herself a complicated entity and would deal with the heavy stress of existing, somehow in two universes- or so it felt, in her own way.

As she neared the spring, she headed towards a vibrant Passion Flower bush, where she proceeded to pull out a decent sized crate. Inside sat bottles of wine that she had pilfered from Pirate Town. This was how she dealt with her problems. Again...some things never change.

* * *

For this story, I will be excluding the name for the Neverland tribe. In the original story of Peter Pan, the name given to them is a derogatory and racial slur. I'm also not comfortable labeling them as 'Indians' either, as that's also viewed as a rather ignorant term to some. Spielberg's Hook left them out entirely. I would like to include them, as they are a huge part of Neverland, and to me, a very important part of Peter Pan's vibrant story. I also really enjoy Tiger Lily's character and have always wanted to have (not only my own version of her- but) her interpreted into Spielberg's world of Hook. I will be referring to them as Neverland's natives, or rather, Tiger Lily's tribe. As it's never stated in the original play or story as to whether or not the tribe originates from Northern America, or anywhere else for the matter- other than just existing in this specific dream/fantasy realm. I've decided to just be somewhat vague in regards to that. In my attempts to steer clear of being offensive, I hope this choice isn't just that! Anyhow- hope you enjoy! :')


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Throwing her head back, Maggie took a deep drink from a heavy green bottle of wine. She bent down and placed it on the grass in front of her, sticking out a leg and slowly pushing the crate back into hiding. Then she began to peel off her clothing.

Her Neverland attire wasn't anything miraculous, but she had become rather fond of it. She had put it together herself during her first handful of weeks with the Lost Boys. She was able to mix and match pieces, while making alterations as she gathered things from Pirate Town. The end result being a tiny bit rough but an overall striking outfit. For how strange the circumstances and perhaps how little 'fashion' truly mattered out there, Maggie always avoided 'frumpy' as much as possible.

The outfit consisted of her hooded cloak, which she had tirelessly quilted and personally adored. The bits and pieces of fabric she had gathered for it were a mix of faded florals, rustic stripes, various solids, and a few lace and ribbon touches. It was incredibly eclectic, but harmonized and pleasant to look at.

She wore her trusty suede boots, which were one of the few things on her that she hadn't parted ways with the night of the dinner party. Being a shoddy off brand, the shoes lost life rather quickly via the Neverland terrain, so many repairs had been made to them. They were a bit unrecognizable now, what with their various patches and buttons, but the fit was as perfect as ever.

She made do with an appropriately sage green tunic, which was a bit roughed up in places, but it was suitable as a dress. To compliment her figure a bit more, rather than to swim in the extra fabric, she took a few notes from Tinkerbell on taking in the sides and stitching them up. She did this with a thin jute twine. The 'dress' in question hung about mid thigh. Yet again, the belts she had found were only in men's sizes, so to keep her dress from looking all too bland, she went with a beautifully detailed curtain tassel tie back. It was cream colored, braided, with faded gold detailing.

The tunic itself had a minor plunge in the neckline where it would tie up, which she left a tad loose. With the tips of the tunic's ties, Maggie had added two very lovely rings she had snatched. They shined pleasantly and she rather enjoyed finding a few clever uses for her stolen treasures. The one accessory she always had on her that she hadn't pilfered, was her small vial necklace. It fell perfectly between the tunic's v shaped neckline.

As for recovering the rest of her arrival outfit, she wasn't so lucky. She was, however, insanely thankful that she had left her bra on the night of the dreaded dress, otherwise she'd be rather uncomfortable in such a coarsely textured top. She could have replaced the undergarment with one of the many corsets she had access to via Drusilla's wardrobe, but frankly, they weren't ideal for moving in. There were lovely dresses galore in her size though, which she had also taken and altered into custom outfits. In Maggie's eyes, most of these clothes were a bit too nice, so she kept them stowed away in her residence at the tree. Rather than wear the finer pieces and watching them slowly tatter from woodland romps, she decided to have a varied wardrobe, as she did back home. After a months time, she had more then enough to choose from to keep things interesting. She was, however, very fond of her 'adventuring garb', or so she had dubbed it. It became her go-to. Of course, when the Lost Boys and Tink felt like celebrating an especially good night of thieving, Maggie would excitedly don one of her nicer getup's. She even made matching outfits for Tink with the spare dress fabric.

Lastly, Maggie left her legs bare. Aside from the fact her legs never went unscathed from scrapes and bruises, she didn't much care for covering them. Longer dresses would be a hassle and hard to move in, and the baggy pirate pants she had tried on were a pain to alter for a proper fit. She had tried a little bit of everything, and as each week went by, one garment would start to drive her more and more crazy. So she'd immediately discard them for something new and test drive it for a while.

She was pleased to have landed on a combination that worked for her, and that ultimately, didn't make her feel like she had stumbled blindly through Smee's closet. Her personality shined through in her new Neverland wardrobe, and she was as proud as a stranded adult living in the woods with children could possibly feel.

Speaking of which, this stranded adult was no longer wearing any of the garments previously mentioned. Maggie had completely stripped down. Only two necklaces lazily hung around her neck, and she had picked up her bottle of wine again. She made her way over to the petite hot spring. It seemed to gesture to her, what with its trail of steam that hovered quietly towards her.

This was one of those things Maggie looked forward to the most. There wasn't anything as calming as the spring. In fact, when she was in the thick of it, the steam made most of her surroundings very unclear. When she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the water and the stillness of the woods, she could almost pretend she wasn't even in Neverland. If she tried hard enough, she could almost imagine she was in her bathroom back home. It was a welcomed feeling these days.

She had gone along with the majority of her situation and had, more or less, mentally blocked out any thoughts of frustration with a rather helpless acceptance. She felt her only choice at this point was to just get comfortable. She had even talked to Tink about it on several occasions, as to why she couldn't just take her back home, but the auburn fairy was always quick to lecture Maggie on how nothing would be fixed that way. Hook would surely continue his reign of piracy upon the island, and perhaps even come after Maggie yet again. The fact of the matter was, so Maggie had figured, was that she needed to own her role as the new 'Pan' of sorts and help everybody get rid of Hook and his men once and for all. This, however, was not an overnight thing.

These were the exact thoughts to rush through Maggie's mind, for the umpteenth time, as she made her way into the spring. She stopped momentarily, sighed heavily, and took another swig. Again, it shouldn't come as a surprise that her patience was absolutely dependent on the availability of alcohol. A sad truth at best, but frankly, Maggie was so tired of trying to will herself into finding her groove naturally, that getting splendidly hammered at least once a week (and slightly buzzed every other night) was the only answer to staying sane in this world, as simply letting go and forgetting home didn't seem to be an option for her. So she did her best to improvise like all mature adults are apt to do. If anything, Maggie was a real trooper- but that's just what she told herself.

The water was a welcomed escape, and Maggie happily slid down into the spring, finding her preferred resting place on a large smooth rock that sloped down into the water. She leaned over to plop the wine bottle down an arms reach away. "Oh...!" She had felt something bump her sternum as she sat back down. It was Hook's ring. It dangled heavily on the fine golden chain. It was much longer than her vial necklace, so she decided to take it off and place it near her clothes just to the side of the water. It sank down into her tunic, it's ruby eyes fogging up slightly. Maggie turned over to her side and crossed her arms, placing them up onto the moist grassy ledge. Her head, turned to one side, relaxed into her arms, and she closed her eyes.

Her mind wandered here and there, back home, back to Neverland, back to her old life, back to her new life. A quiet swishing noise broke the silence. She opened her eyes, fearing perhaps a snake had decided to go wandering by. Coming to a slow and nonchalant stop before her, was Jack's baseball. It ominously glistened.

Maggie's heart plummeted into her belly. Before she could even look for him, he spoke from somewhere just beyond, "I'm not entirely sure why..." Hook appeared, first as a foggy silhouette, but slowly, the sharp red and black that defined him were much more clear. His silver hook gleamed menacingly. Maggie gasped, throwing her arms across her chest. "-but I've decided to return this lost item of yours. Which is silly, considering all the things you've stolen from me." He stopped just where her clothes lay.

"Piss off!" Maggie spat, still tightly holding her chest. She had brought her legs up beneath her, laying quite awkwardly on her side.

"Oh, I'm sorry, bad timing? How inconsiderate of me."

"WHY are you even here? Were you following me? Get lost! You...you asshole!" Seeing Hook again whilst being so absurdly vulnerable drove Maggie mad. She had zero time to prepare for this encounter and fumbled with her words in mortifying rambles.

"Poetry. Thank you." Hook replied, smiling. "Actually, yes. I figured I'd drop by and visit you, seeing as you have been doing the very same so much this past month. I thought showing up unannounced was how this worked! Or is that tactic only reserved for yourself?"

"Harr harr!" Maggie bellowed in a deep voice. "Seriously, get out of here! This is weird!" She haphazardly continued.

"Not until I get that ring back." Hook calmly answered.

"Nope." This childish reaction had suddenly overtaken Maggie and she had simply decided she would not be returning the ring. The fact she had taken it right from under Hook's nose was a proud moment in her recent kleptomaniac episodes, and she had an odd completionist outlook on the entire ordeal. In fact, she would be pleased to leave him with nothing but an empty dock. Hell, stealing his coat was on her list too.

Her eyes darted to the skull ring, and quickly back up to Hook.

"Ahh..." He mused, taking a knee. She had accidentally given away where the ring was, as subtle as that glance had been. Hook was incredibly perceptive. Maggie reacted, lunging forward, one arm extended, and snatched the accessory. She snapped her arm back towards her chest, but Hook's hand intercepted, knocking the ring free. It plummeted into the spring with a deep gulping splash, just where Maggie was sitting. They both gazed down, with quite stupid and astonished looks on their faces. They then stared at each other once more before Maggie stuck her hand down into the water. Hook followed suit.

Frantic hands searched the steaming water. Maggie's eyes darted back and fourth from the water and Hook, "Get your hand out of here!" She shrieked. "I swear to God..." The pulsating water from the swirling arms rushed around her bare form. There it was, the ring! Both hands had swept by it. Maggie jerked her leg away, chasing it with her fingertips. Hook pursued. The idiotic struggle continued just between her legs until, "AhhhhHA!" She yelped. Maggie pulled her arm out of the water and back to her chest, the ring tightly in her palm. She smiled at Hook triumphantly. However, he did not move his arm.

"I see you're very concerned with modesty." Hook began.

Maggie's smile faded as she squinted at him.

"For such a strange predicament, I wonder where your stubbornness ends? In one hand you hold the ring, and in the other...well." He glanced at her chest. "Which would you give up first to stop me?"

Maggie didn't quite understand what Hook meant by this, until she felt his fingers on the bottom of her thigh. She gasped.

Hook couldn't help but crack a mischievous smirk at the sound. "Your left hand, or..." His fingers moved lower, "-your right hand." His mouth stayed slightly open at this, after his tongue formed the very last word. His tooth gap made it's notable appearance.

Maggie's pulse pumped through her neck, her face flushing intensely. Her voice was quiet but steady, "You wouldn't."

Hook leaned over the spring, closing the gap between them. One of his curls swung down and landed in the water with a quiet slap. "You have no idea what I'd do." His voice a low growl.

Maggie's gut tightened. The heat from the water mixing with her rising body temperature was numbing. She sat in an odd limbo of thought, wondering what he would do if she continued to resist. Her hand tightened around the ring momentarily. She hesitated. Would he?

His touch was soft. His fingers pressed lightly on her skin. They had stopped moving for now, but she knew just how close they were. Her heart was thudding loudly in her ears. Small pulsations from her chest sent out very faint ripples in the water. She was anticipating the eventual moment when...Was she even breathing? She deeply inhaled through her nose, feeling her body heave upwards as the air fought it's way into her. The scene was very still.

Maggie broke. She lifted her hand up to Hook, opening her palm and letting the ring fall. The necklace caught itself between her fingers. The skull swung silently before them.

Hook raised his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth turning upwards ever so slightly. "Not so stubborn after all, it seems." He moved his hand away from her, lifting it out of the water to gently grab the ring. He then stood, shook off his soaked cuff, and nodded. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you around then, yes?"

Maggie just looked at him. She swallowed, still trying to remember how to properly breathe, and replied hoarsely, "Yep."

With that, Hook faded off into the woods, leaving Maggie on her own again. She sat upright in the spring, still covering herself, and breathlessly exhaled, "Holy shit..."

* * *

_Hey look, stuff is happening! I'm finally edging myself into smut territory (kinda!). Hook is still super pissed at Maggie though, so I'll be sure to address his motivations in the next chapter. I don't want to spoil my own story, but at the same time I hate to leave things unaddressed for long periods of time- writing is hard, oh golly. I'm ridiculously tired and wanting to write a lot more, but don't have the time I need to properly do so- so bear with me while I slowly trudge along! Trying to keep my plot and characters in line has been a challenge, but hopefully their development in this story are enjoyable to read. There's a lot I want to explore with them still, and I really would hate to rush into what they can eventually be. I figured this last scene would be one way to get the ball rolling (You've all been so patient with me anyway- I hope this is a pleasant taste of what you've been possibly waiting for?) but if you're still reading 28 chapters in, I'll assume you're used to waiting by now, ha! I'll try to keep it as interesting as possible, promise! Updates might get a bit slow this month and the next, so apologies in advance!_

_Hope you enjoy! Thanks as always for reading :')_

_Also, as a heads up, I have an official Hook x Maggie Tumblr that I love sharing fanart and other related goodies on, so if you enjoy this story and the ship, here's the name of the blog: hookxmaggie (followed by the tumblr url)_


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

"I. CAN'T. DO. IT!"

"I know how frustrated you are Maggie, but-"

Maggie plopped down on a large tangle of weeds in a huff, her breath heavy and exasperated. "This is pointless."

Maggie had been out each and every morning since recovering in full from her date with death. After getting dragged back to the Nevertree; drunken, soggy, and bleeding, Tink and the Lost Boys all agreed that she'd have to wise up when it came to Hook. The man was nothing but trouble and could not be trusted. Tink was determined to get Maggie up to snuff when it came to fighting, and better yet, flying. She was anything but a damsel, but she knew Maggie was less than enthusiastic about being in Neverland. With tensions rising and Hook looking to sate his appetite for war, every precaution had to be taken, sooner rather than later. This was Tink's second chance to be at the side of a Pan, and who better to fill the role than a direct descendant? She'd do whatever needed to be done.

As the weeks rolled by, Maggie started to come around. One night when the Lost Boys got the itch to go out and ransack Pirate Town, Tink saw just how much Maggie enjoyed herself after having tagged along. Apparently the idea of shenanigans and childlike hijinks were lost on her at first. Though, it didn't take long for Maggie to latch onto the role of a rogue, having found it a perspective she could eagerly embrace.

Maggie soon spearheaded regular outings. It had been her idea to get in talks with Tigerlily and her tribe about strengthening alliances, preparing for imminent battle, and disarming Hook and his men as much as possible. The unsettling atmosphere coming from Pirate Town was felt throughout Neverland long before Maggie returned, but this new Robin Hood scheme had worked well for finally easing the worries of both groups.

While the agreeing nods and murmurs of a prepared counter blow swept over a good portion of the island, Maggie had a bit of a different context in mind. Frankly, she just liked stealing things. She was happy the idea had gone over as well as it did, but she didn't feel like full credit was due. Tinkerbell and Tigerlily had really fleshed out the details post Maggie's drunken rant the night the two sides gathered for a friendly feast. Of course, Maggie harbored a warm pride for having technically started the movement, but deep down swiping things just felt good. It gave her a rush. A sense of accomplishment.

It also had a great deal to do with her immeasurably resentful feelings about Hook leading her on. Then sitting back and watching her get fabulously plastered. _and shot_. She was having a hard time getting over that particular evening. She didn't like getting played. The crabs didn't make the memory any sweeter either.

So Maggie bided her time, trained with Tink, and grew in fervor thinking about anything and everything she could do to haunt Hook from her supposed watery grave. And so, the ever extensive thieving began. Of course, that had been her only run in with the notorious Captain. Afore many a missing trinkets, a surprise confrontation in the woods, and a humiliating visit at the hot spring, she had been nothing more to him than a ghost. With the cat out of the bag, Maggie had to start taking her education in warmongering a bit more seriously.

"It's not!" Tink's voice sounding somber, "You're his daughter. I know you can fly just like he did. On your own! Without the help of dust!" She floated over to Maggie and gently landed on her slumped shoulder. "You know, he went through this exact same thing." Maggie lifted her head and looked at the small fairy. "It wasn't easy for him, but he found his happy thought, and when he did-"

"-but I've thought of EVERYTHING, Tink. Everything. Nothing works. I have shit for happy thoughts. I'm a half assed adult with zero accomplishments. I don't have the kidnapped kids going for me. Am I supposed to blast off into the sky, my brain swirling with visions of awkward family gatherings and binge watching crime dramas all day? Anything good I had is too far gone."

"Keep trying!" Tink pleaded.

"Listen, if the memory of winning 10,000 tickets on Epic Tornado at the arcade a few years ago doesn't do it, nothing will."

"...Maggie!"

"2,000 watermelon chews, Tink. 2,000. They had to get out their back stock and open new boxes for me. I threw them on the carpet and rolled around in them. Nothing can top that. It's useless." Maggie tried a smile. She was exhausted. She genuinely searched day and night, jumping from ledge after ledge, each time with a new happy thought, and nothing- not even a hover. She was convinced Tink's 'by blood' theory was complete hogwash.

"Then we'll try again tomorrow." Tink said matter-of-factly, darting off towards the Nevertree. "Get something to eat! Go rest! You worked really hard today." She smiled warmly. Tink's patience had been incredible, which Maggie was greatly appreciative of, but felt awful that all this time spent would likely result in zero payoff. She really didn't want to disappoint Tinkerbell, but she was nothing like her father Peter. Especially not the young, brazen Lost Boy and hero of Neverland that he once was.

"Yessir, Mr. Miyagi." Maggie mumbled, feeling rather defeated. She had worked up an appetite though. She wrenched herself upwards, groaning in the process, and promptly dragged her feet after Tink.

"-and tomorrow we work more on your fencing!"

"My arms are still sore from last time!" Maggie groused in reply.

"Captain Hook doesn't care if you're sore!" Tink retorted.

"Captain Hook is a fuckin' dingleberry."

* * *

Hook sat quietly at his desk, turning his finger slightly. He stared down at his recently recovered ring, lost in thought.

"Cap'n?" Smee spoke.

Hook came to, a distant look on his face. "Hm?"

"Well, I was sayin' that the natives were spotted picking up another load of cargo from the Lost Boys at around dawn. Three men reported back with confirmations on the various loot. Worst part is, they saw them loadin' up weapons! Firearms, blades-"

"Has she really gotten away with THAT much?" Hook interrupted angrily.

"I'm afraid so. She had a lot of help before we enforced the guard stations. Technically theft is...down." Smee's voice sloped into quiet uncertainty.

"That damn woman is a phantom come the night! Either my men are as blind as mole-rats, or Maggie and her band of thieves have the ability to morph into the shadows! How is this even possible?"

"It's quite the scheme!"

"It's quite the embarrassment!" Hook corrected. He sighed heavily, feeling utterly foolish. "and I bet she's SO proud of her wild accomplishments." He grumbled.

"We'll catch her soon enough, Cap'n!" Said Smee with a hint of disbelief. "I'm sure of it!" He shifted his gaze, a gaping smile holding stiffly upon his stubbled face.

It had been several moons since the literal steamy encounter with Maggie. Upon hearing Smee's half-assedly enthusiastic claim, Hook remembered to keep that particular story to himself. Smee would wonder why he hadn't apprehended her then. Hook didn't have the answer. It was nothing more than impulsive. He knew the confrontation was far from frightening enough to make the girl stop, and by taking his ring back, he was certain it would only inspire further passive aggressive and bothersome ransacking. The thought irritated him immensely.

"Oh come now, Smee. You know she has more than outsmarted us. I don't care to admit it, but we underestimated her completely. She's much more than an addled and offensive twenty-something. She has managed to equip our enemies with anything and everything they could ever need. Things which could be used against us. Things I'm most certain WILL be used against us."

_The war to end all wars_. Perhaps that was finally becoming a reality.

It was feeling far too stuffy in the dim and velvety red cabin. Hook required a fresh Neverland breeze to wipe his mind clear of his frustrations with the Pick Pocketing Pan that constantly tormented him and his crew. It had gone on long enough, and frankly, he craved a moment's peace and the light of day was the only time to explore that need.

Hook's glossy black heels rattled down the boardwalk, the tuft of white feathers atop his hat billowing softly as he went. Pirates and town folk hollered loyally, throwing up hook shaped fingers, while others looked utterly frightened and backed into the shadows of nearby shanties hoping to go unnoticed. Hook was used to both the positive and negative reception. Those with a lack of remorse and the penchant to boot lick were always more than enthusiastic to greet him, but there were always those that wondered if today would be the day Hook was coming for them. Rumors gone awry, the unfortunate slip of the tongue at the pub- It was never properly broadcasted when their dandy Captain was having a bad day or had become privy to negative murmurs. One simply never knew who was going to get gutted or when.

As he rounded the corner of the market, Hook saw a group of his men ranting excitedly, walking in the same direction just ahead. Once Hook was in earshot, he picked up on what they were so delighted about.

"There is NO way the Captain doesn't have his hook on that one." One of the better chefs of the soup kitchen spat. "You saw her!"

"Oh I saw, drinks all around that damned place! She had every fool in town opening a tab! If she were his, she wouldn't need the likes of YOU, of all people, to buy her drinks!"

"Bit of a relief eh? Nice to have somethin' to look at! I always worried Hook'd snatch my good eye right outta me head when Drusilla would come boppin' around- looong ago! Back when he first swept her off the public market. He doesn't leave much for pickins, does he? Even his bo'sun has a claim on a handful of em'- the greedy bastards!"

"Wish those mermaids would sprout some legs and come walkin' out of the sea one day. Times be rough, my boys, times be rough."

"Aye!" They all agreed, laughing.

Hook's ears were more than perked, they were practically flapping away to catch every bit of the conversation. Who in the hell were they referring to? He knew each and every prostitute and woman folk from around the town, and he was damn sure he had thoroughly sorted through them. There was always the slim possibility one of the few Pirate Town wives, of which there were a great few, would become fed up and join the ranks of Drusilla's ladies or slither into a bar for some adulterous flirtations. From how these men salivated, Hook couldn't think of who it could be-

"Oy! Coulda swore I was wearin' me silver band! Gus, you see if I 'wuz wearin' it in the pub earlier?" One of the men said, fingers spread and held out before him.

"You're always losin' shit mate, you probably lost it wiping that fat arse of yours!" A somewhat friendly brawl broke out between them, but ended quickly when it almost collided with the silent Captain standing just behind them.

"S-Sir! Gud'evenin'!" The abashed hoodlums shuffled aside, allowing Hook to pass. "Scuse the scuffle, Cap'n!" The eye contact was minimal.

"Not to worry." Hook replied, nodding stiffly. "Carry on then." He swept by and continued down the path with burning purpose, straight towards the Drunken Wench, concealing his fresh and fuming rage. He now knew exactly who they spoke of. _Ohh did he know._

* * *

The mystery woman leaned in and clamped her arms tight around her chest, creating quite the spectacle before the dusty gentlemen sitting along the bar. One dainty hand, nails glossy and black, rested on an very unkempt and eager pirate, while the other held an ornate lace fan that obscured her face slightly. Her lashes were intensely thick, lips as dark as pitch, with storm clouds riding her eyelids. Long, cyprus burnt umber curls poured around her shoulders. Atop her head sat a petite black with silver trim tricorn, adorned with matching lace ribbons and feathers that hung down and swayed playfully against her face as she laughed.

"I suppose one more drink wouldn't hurt." The raven like mistress spoke softly with a cut-glass accent.

"You name it, my goddess, you name it!" The current arm rest boomed. "Anything!"

"You're really too much!" She smiled coyly, moving her free hand down to his, which resided on his lap, just beneath the counter. The man was so delightfully distracted, he didn't feel his gold band slowly slip off his bony finger.

Throwing back the gin that had slid her way, the popular lady '_mmm'd_' obnoxiously and promptly thanked the scrawny fellow for his kind contribution. She then turned to the man opposite her and lovingly settled her palm on his lower back, retracting her fingers playfully. "You men are all such fine company, I must say!" She ran her hand down his side as she pulled away, discreetly removing his dagger from it's sheath. She turned away, concealing the weapon in the folds of her dress. "-but I MUST be on my way now! I'm afraid if I stay any longer I'll...catch a case of the uhh- Vapors!" The lady uncharacteristically snorted, waving her fan in front of her face.

She parted from the crowd with a wink, dropping the knife into a concealed pocket located on the hip of her dress. The self cut gash in the fabric led down into a pouch with a pull tie. Inside the bag was the evening's haul and it tinked and clinked as she moved. The knife made it's own noise as it met with the rings and gold pieces below, to which the woman paired a conveniently timed sneeze. "My! Excuse me!" She giggled. She turned abruptly, ready to make her way out.

"You're excused." Came a deep unamused voice.

The young woman found herself face to face with Captain Hook, who had just entered the pub. She let out a surprised gasp. Her hand stiffened it's hold on the fan, almost pressing it flat against her face. She cleared her throat and spoke dubiously, "OH! M-myyyy...Captain!"

"It's an alarming pleasure to see you, my dear, but I'm afraid," he slowly moved forward, closing in, "your name has escaped me." He looked the distressed miss up and down, continuing his gradual progression towards her.

She moved back to keep any distance there had been before his sudden descent, but a wooden table just behind her disagreed. It replied with a heavy _**Brrrp **_as she bumped into it. Now pinned between the unwieldy table and an intimidating individual, the woman let out a amorous breath, a slight laugh muddled within. "I'm Evie..." She paused, eyes darting about Hook's waiting face, "Evie Stilleto. Like the knife. Not the shoe." She smiled mischievously.

"With a name like that, I'm ashamed to have forgotten." Hook replied, overacting his regret.

Evie bit the far side of her lip, which was mostly concealed behind the black lace of the fan, "I've been wanting to see you...quite badly in fact!" She straightened up and with a sudden presence of confidence and leaned into Hook, her face hovering mere inches from his concealed ear, "Nobody else can make a room stand so still, yet make my world spin so madly." She said softly. Again, her elegant hand took off. It traveled from the shoulder of his coat, past his lace cuffs, and down to his hand.

"My my, Miss Stiletto! What a way with words..." Hook rumbled.

Evie's hand grasped lightly at the top of Hook's hand, then continued, entangling her fingers with his in a flirtatious manner. She caressed the solid skull ring, sliding if off with a nimble twist, being sure to move her hips as she did. She let out another coquettish sigh, as her hand swiftly pulled back towards her, fist clenched. Hook gently pushed back in answer, pressing firmly against her. He turned and lowered his head- any lower and he would have been cradling her neck. Her warmth rose to his cheeks and her subtle perfumed scent pleasantly greeted his nose. He placed his naked hand on Evie's hip, pulling slightly. "Your disguise is very good." He spoke with a reticent and amused tone, his breath a hot torrent upon her skin.

Evie's eyes became wide and she stiffened, "ah-"

He continued, his hand now blocking her stashing pocket, forcing the thieve's fist to hover clumsily between them. "You covered all your bases. Changed your hair, your clothing, your makeup- a complete transformation," He smiled to himself, "even the accent was a charming touch." His hook made it's way down her back, "but you forgot something." He moved his hand away from her hip, "I'd recognize these anywhere." The back of his fingers moved softly across the top of Evie's cleavage. Her chest heaved upwards, meeting his hand with accidental enthusiasm, as she inhaled with surprise. She noticed quite clearly now just how firmly she was cemented between Hook and the table. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to look away from him but not getting far.

"-and I'll let you in on another little secret..." He paused momentarily, his hand now covering her tightened fist, "...Maggie." His hook peeked up from behind the lacy fan, then impaled it. In one rapid movement the accessory was out of her hand and in the air. It fluttered pathetically before meeting the floor with a sad _clack_. "Around here, when you're my woman, you're on par with the plague. Avoided at all costs. Do you wonder why?"

Maggie exhaled with a defeated grunt, preparing for his lecture.

"-because these men are smart enough to want to keep their innards intact."

Maggie remained unspeaking, noticing that the entire pub was watching silently from all around them.

Hook pulled back to look her in the eyes. "Look now, see? They're waiting to see if I stake my claim." His hook made it's way under Maggie's chin, tilting her head upwards slightly. With that, Hook moved in boldly and without hesitation. It wasn't a light and soft kiss, it was as firm and direct as she was pinned. Far from sloppy, it seemed calculated and perfectly on target, his head tilted just right to accommodate his large nose to rest beside hers. In fact, it was such an unambiguous and precise kiss that it required no adjustments. Maggie's lips were pressed comfortably against his, locked in an ideal embrace.

Hook's hand gently prodded it's way into her clenched hand. Maggie's fingers were easily swayed to part, and he was able to pull his ring out with little to no resistance. He swiftly slid the skull back to it's rightful place with a few flicks of his digits. This took place in a mere matter of seconds, and just as the initial kiss was threatening to part, he began again with a deep and vigorous exhale, taking her lower lip fiercely and regaining his hold. She clearly accepted as a faint moan made it's way out of her. Her fan-less hand had come to rest on his shoulder, and clamped down as the new kiss took over.

Hook moved like he had memorized every step beforehand. He snatched up Maggie's leg, forcing her to lean back. He pinned her ankle up by his hip, and proceeded to hold it steady under his arm. His hand moving freely, it dove into her dress without a sound. Another whine fought it's way out of the girl. She felt his palm ride up her bare thigh, but it came to a stop beneath the pouch she kept hidden there.

Again, with lightning fast reflexes, Hook tore the pouch from her waist with a hearty tug, dropped her leg, and finished the flawless kiss in a manner of which was profoundly impressive. He took a long step back and threw the bag onto a nearby table- it's contents exploding in a shiny splendor before the heartbroken crowd.

No words were needed. Hook knew that Maggie, or rather, Evie Stiletto, understood. He knew the men occupying the Drunken Wench understood as well. She belonged to him and her pick pocketing days as the gothic seductress had very well come to an end, whether she liked it or not. Hook then walked himself out of the pub, looking all too proud of himself.

Maggie was left leaning weakly on the table. Her breaths were deep and fast, sending her chest into another fit of heaves. She could feel the burning flush of her face. Her hands and legs trembled numbly. The kiss lingered, demanding it not soon be forgotten.

"Holy shit..."

* * *

_-aaaand here you will witness Maggie's extensive vocabulary when dealing with those pesky sexual frustrations! Good work Hook- you've rendered her a one-liner spouting madwoman._

_Anyway, HEY GUYS! So yeaap, it's been a few billion years since the last update- but I've got a full time career that has been more or less sucking up every waking hour of my life (get money get paaaaid)- so sadly, the story has had to endure the threat of cobwebs once more. __I have been getting a lot of sad (and somewhat angry?) messages in regards to this- and I DO apologize, but oddly enough, the grocery store doesn't accept Hook smut as monetary compensation. Thanks Obama._

_The days are far too short, my friends! I wish I had more time to dedicate to writing this, truly! It's a lot of fun when I'm not half asleep and forget how to WORDS. Ha! All in all, the sorrowful and sometimes negative reception in regards to the lack of updates tells me you're enjoying the read and just want more? Right? RIGHT? Yea! I'll take this as good news! (but really, enthusiastic and steadfast readers- however you have communicated to me your want for more of this story, BLESS YA!)_

_Before I leave you- I would like to reiterate the Tumblr fan page! I just uploaded a ton of fanart from many a loyal reader, as well as some commissioned pieces! So if you want to see some HookxMaggie illustrations, then head on over! I have a mighty need to draw the oh-so-mysterious 'Evie Stiletto'. I'll have to make that happen sooner rather than later!_

_The blog is called hookxmaggie_

_Hope to see some of you there :')_

_Until next time!_


	30. Chapter 30

_So, hey. Hey guys. Uhhhh. _

_WELL OKAY, first of all- Tigerlily and her tribe. Fun fact: I'm part of a very passionate community of Hook collectors and we tend to shoot the shit about all kinds of strange factoids, and recently somebody dug up some photos of the entire Neverland model that was in Hook's cabin (you know, when Smee is playing with the little boats to cheer up a suicidal James?) So, with roughly 20% of the actual film being cut, we never got to see the natives. Though, looking at concepts and props, it's clear that they were intended to be included somehow. The Mount Rushmore styled chieftain carvings on the mountainside WERE GOING TO BE CANON. Radical, right? It was said they were going to dwell within the earth or the mountain itself- so I extrapolated on that, because from any story you read about Peter Pan, it's the same cut and dry thing. Tipis and bonfires.__ I had ALWAYS wanted to know Spielberg's vision for the Natives of Neverland, and learning about that blew my fucking MIND. It was such a cool and unique idea- so __I seasoned that jumping point with an antisocial 'Tolkien Dwarves chillin' in Erebor' vibe_._ I really want to get as close as possible to 'Theatrical Hook-ness' as possible!- but just with a few more...uh. Boners. Don't worry about it!_

_SPEAKING OF WHICH. Here's your 'super intense adult time warning', guys. It's in here. It's starting. I rambled on and on for two years with vague threats of juicy intimacy and sexual FRENZY and boy howdy, I'm no liar! So, proceed with caution or dive in and get crunk. *air horns*_

_Ultimately, ENJOY! :')_

* * *

Chapter 30

The backside of Neverland's towering red mountain, which sat snugly at the center of everything, was a great source of mystery to all who lived on the island. A monstrous waterfall flowed from the highest point and fell far down below in a thunderous fashion, the source of the water an enigma, as Neverland often dealt in. Carved deeply into the rocky sides were the faces of stern and powerful chieftains. From deep within the mountain walls there lived a large tribe of people. The keepers of these rigid and elevated borders surrounding them were Tigerlily and her people.

The extreme hiking required to get there was a big reason there was a severe lack in visitors, but it was also due to the keen observers always armed and on guard. They weren't a violent people, but they had learned quickly enough that trust was a risk, especially after the horrors Captain Hook unleashed upon them over the years. Peter Pan had been the only person to ever create a relationship with them, granting the Lost Boys many a surreal visit to the tribe's home. For the second time in the tribes history, they had cautiously accepted the offer to join the Lost Boys as allies once more, in hopes of defending their own from the growing threat of the pirates. With Peter Pan's own flesh and blood seemingly at the helm of the Nevertree's army, Tigerlily wanted to honor her old friend, and felt a mutual agreement could be reached.

There were many sizable holes chiseled out all over the mountain. They were located on each side, all of various widths and heights, much like a massive apartment complex. The tribe could keep an eye of the expansive island this way, but nobody could ever see them up there, perched in their sturdy sills. Time was never a burden to anybody who lived in Neverland, so the natives had many days and nights to succeed the jaw-dropping accomplishment of burrowing deep into a mountain, creating a sturdy dwelling of epic proportions. It was reminiscent of ancient South American cities, covered with chiseled murals and stone steps that made their way up many a steep slope and reached around deadly canyons. The towering stone guts of the grand island were the perfect sanctuary for the alienated group.

Tigerlily sat quietly in a rocky windowed opening. Her room was the humblest of all, as she had given up her fathers large chamber, rightfully entitled to her after his death, to a younger tribeswoman and her two small children. She certainly didn't require the space, and had no use for furnishings- as all she carried on her were her weapons and rations. The tiny room she claimed for herself was no burden whatsoever. It was simple, clean, and had one of the best views of the harbor. It was all she needed.

The Princess, dubbed thusly via Pan himself, was in her mid teens. She never latched onto the title herself, but accepted it with a smile, as she had quite enjoyed Peter's company. The definition, according to him, was somebody beautiful who wore lots of jewelry and danced, which Tigerlily at the time had done much of. Peter only knew the word from Wendy's bedtime stories, and took to calling the chiefs daughter this. Now a days, she was far from the delicate young lady that watched from the sidelines as her late father ruled. Her days of walking the verdant jungle and decorating herself with symbolic jewelry were far behind her. She buried many of those cherished pieces with her father and from that point on, had lost interest in anything remotely materialistic. All that mattered now were her people and her personal retribution.

Tigerlily thrust herself into a role of leadership immediately. She had demanded it, and little opposition had met her. The fire in her eyes and uncharacteristic shouts overruled any resistance on the matter. The day Hook killed her father was the most heartbreaking and infuriating moment she had ever experienced. She made an oath to never rest until her father was avenged. Not only him, but every life that had been taken by the pirates would be paid for in full with Hook's own blood. She would make sure of that.

Tigerlily had become a recluse, always looking out the window in the morning and scouting the dark woods come the night. Family and friends were all concerned for her but understood the motivations. All they could do was make sure she had eaten that day and coaxed her into taking rests when they could catch her. For all intensive purposes, everybody was as upset as her, and supported her with steadfast loyalty. On her more stubborn nights, one line always brought the girl back to reality, "You have to take care of yourself if you want to take care of us, Tigerlily!"

With the role of chief came many responsibilities and the young girl took them all head on with great zeal and passion. She was the top hunter in their tribe, the finest with a dagger and bow, could track better than the seasoned scouts, and dueled like a sandstorm full of wasps. She trained tirelessly to be the icon of protection to her people, and would continue to make any and all sacrifices necessary to ensure they were all safe, fed, and comfortable.

Piles of curly wooden ribbons wiggled lightly in the breeze, more dropping in with each slice. Tigelrily had started to refill her leather quiver and patiently sharpened her arrows. A dented metal tin sat nearby, full of pointed arrowheads that would soon become fastened to the ends of her deadly projectiles.

Tigerlily wore a unisex ensemble comprised of leather fringe pants, knee high belted boots that came in a shipment from Tink, and a long sleeve jacket made of a sleek raw umber leather that snugly laced up the front. On her hands she wore one fully fitted black glove, and on the other, a tan finger-less glove which she used to quickly snatch arrows from her backside. She wore her charcoal colored hair in a single thick braid that was often slung over her left shoulder. She went undecorated, unlike her tribe and past self, and kept her face paintless. With her unrelenting stress and lack of sleep, she sported intense dark spots under her eyes.

With the sun setting, her usual nightly duties were drawing near, and she never knew who or what she might run into. So she prepared in her usual routine, the only sound being flow of the monstrous waterfall moving powerfully far above her room.

* * *

Maggie paced vehemently in her small bungalow, having just recently returned from her stealing spree gone awry. "Motherfucking stupid son of a goddamn bitch..." Her hair plodded along behind her as she went, smooshed and rather unkempt after having been taken out of the Evie Stiletto wig, which now lay exhausted a few feet away on the bed along with the seductive lacy black dress. Maggie was wearing nothing but her 'home world' undergarments; a heather grey jersey knit push up bra with neon yellow lining and a pair of simple black boy shorts.

Her index finger picked at her lip, elbow resting on her other arm, which clung rigidly to her bare waist. "Hmmm..." She was beyond frustrated about the event that had taken place at the Drunken Wench. Her trip back to the Nevertree was a surreal one. Her head crawled with visions of Hook's borderline carnal advances. With each step she took through the jungle came a "shit, shit, shit, shit..." and the occasional "BALLS" as she'd trip on her long dress and stumble into unmoving tree trunks and branches. Oh the painful distractions! It was unbearable at best. She didn't like it one bit. It was utterly confusing, and being confused frustrated Maggie. What did she really feel? Was she livid? Perhaps she was experiencing the stinging tinge of defeat? Embarrassment? ...Attraction?

"Curly haired fart face...!" Her arms slung downwards in a huff, fingers clawed out, then without missing a beat, went right back up to her temples, where she clutched her hairline and screeched. "He's such a-!"

"Maggie?" Tink's voice came from the doorway. "You uh. Okay?"

"H-Hey!" Maggie had never been caught in her personals by the fairy before and wasn't sure if she cared or not. She hoped it wasn't problematic and answered, face red, "Sorry, I'm just...venting. Alone. To myself. Like a psycho. Don't mind me."

"Figured I'd check in on you. Saw you come in- what's up with the outfit?" She scrunched her tiny nose at it.

"OH!" Maggie's eyes grew wide, her mouth a petite little 'o' shape. "I was trying a new angle, I guess. I have so much crap from the prostitute's place that I just made my own little...THING." Her hands jazzed wildly at the costume. "Then I wore it over there and basically got manhandled by every Tom, Dick, and Harry on the boardwalk. I got TONS of shit too! Then I lost it. All of it."

"Could you please clarify?" Tink raised a brow in entertained confusion.

"Yea- okay, so." Maggie sighed, rolling her eyes in preparation for a somewhat vague story to tell Tink, "Hook knows damn well I show up at night. So I'll change it up! Go during the day. Laughs all around, right? Sure. Threw this 'Elvira: Mistress of Fuck You' on and went into the pub. Pickpocket paradise, Tink. Amazing times." She cleared her throat, "Then IN WALKS that smug Restoration-ass-lookin' bastard! I swear Tink- he's psychic. This costume was legit! He KNEW. He knew it was me even before he WALKED in- how the HELL!" Maggie was sputtering and rambling, arms flailing as her face contorted with each description. Tink started laughing. "Then- WHAT? Why are you laughing?!" She wheezed.

"I'm sorry, you're just a wonderful storyteller. Not really equipped with the same grace and soft spoken manner of Wendy, but it's certainly...captivating." The pixie snorted.

"Do you want me to tell you about this or not!?"

"No no, go on- what'd Hook do?"

"HE...He..." Maggie wasn't entirely sure how to tell this part, or if she even should. Tink already scolds her for diving into the shark tank by herself, and this was pretty high on the reckless list. "He just saw me take stuff, apparently? Or somebody told him? Anyway, so he stole everything back! Then said some stupid Hook stuff, you know like, 'Foolish...squid!' and I called him an idiot, he tried to stab me, I escaped, yadda yadda! Three hours of pick pocketing totally wasted." Her eyes quickly wandered over to her end table, breaking eye contact momentarily.

Tink squinted, trying to understand, "You fought him?"

"Eyuuuuup. Right after he swiped my bag!" Maggie made a comical little snatching motion, lips puckered inward. "It was nuts! So I was like, "oh hell naw' and just took off...! Didn't want to stick around and get attacked by the entire mob I just robbed blind AND Hook." Her eyes darted all over Tink's face, hoping she looked convinced.

"Geeze, sounds like quite the fiasco!" Tink placed her hands on her hips, seemignly pleased with the length of the tale.

"Oh totally." Maggie nodded, relieved.

"Well, glad you're alive and kickin'! A bag of gold isn't anything to fuss over! Speaking of which, we have a trade-off scheduled on the cove in the next hour! So let's go grab the boys and get over there." Tink directed.

"Oh- okay. Well, let me put actual clothes on and..." Maggie got an idea suddenly looking at her jewelry display, smiled, and stopped mid sentence.

"-and what?" Tink asked.

"- you know, I honestly feel super shitty? I didn't really eat much today, drank a few too many playing it up at the pub, and I just, I dunno, could use a nap? Would you be incredibly pissed if I stayed behind on this one?" Maggie faking sudden fatigue, her brows wincing upwards as she spoke. "You know I would otherwise-"

"Awh hey, yea, no problem! You're never sick- we don't want you out for the count, so rest up and we'll start early tomorrow with training!" Tink agreed without hesitation.

"Thank you Tink, seriously!" Maggie apologetically smiled, her idea punching the insde of her cranium excitedly, hopng Tink would hurry up and leave.

Once she finally did, Maggie spun around and faced the pile of Evie Stiletto. "Get ready, motherfucker."

* * *

The sky was darkening into rich evening tones of cerulean and purple as night prepared to intervene in the coming hours. Pirate Town was bustling with an enthusiastic air. Hook had demanded weekly duels be held at their makeshift stadium in order to get his men in their fittest fighting form. As well, the entertainment was dreadfully needed to keep every bodies spirits high in these strange times.

"-and remember men; no death, dismemberment, or deep wounds! We can't afford to lose anybody! This is innocent sport!...but you had better make it DAMNED good!" He smirked as his cue, and the crowd seated below him on the shabby bleachers cheered and clapped with gruff glee. Hook then sat himself down in his VIP perch, letting out an indifferent sigh. He slumped back in a red velvet chair and wrapped his fingers around the chilly curve of his hook. This was sure to be a proper way to get that blasted girl off his min-

"Cap'n?" An unsure pirate called.

"What is it?" Hook replied with slight irritation.

"Miss uhh...Evie Stiletto is 'ere to watch with ya." The strange announcement confused him as he spoke and he promptly shrugged upon finishing, stepping to the side. Sure enough, from behind him rose Stiletto herself. Her face foregoing concealment this time, allowing her intense lashes and smug black lips to immediately greet the Captain.

"WHAT a surprise this is." Hook voicing his true feelings upon seeing the girl.

Maggie nodded at the man who led her to the seats, giving him his hint to leave. He did, tripping on his way down.

"Well here you are then!" Maggie mockingly replied in her cut-glass accent. She plopped down and scooted uncomfortably close to Hook. Dropping the accent immediately, she lowered her voice, "How's it going, shitlord?"

"Excuse you?!" _What was this? A fever dream, honestly..._

"I love me a good ol' duel!" Exhaling amusedly she continued, "Who'll get the upper hand I wonder?"

Maggie was up to no good, Hook would be an idiot not to notice, but he had no choice other than to play along. The foolhardy beauty before him had him out in the open. If she wanted to play dirty, that was fine by him.

"A duel lover?" His voice lowering to match Maggie's smooth display of bravado. "I'm starting to believe that about you, my dear."

Maggie replied with a smiley '_hmph_', wrinkling her nose cutely. "OH! Hey." She elbowed him playfully. She could see the rage behind Hook's eyes as she prodded him on, it was beyond grand, "Do you notice anything...new? About me?" She thrust her chest out, turning her head to the side. Hook glanced down, not noticing right away what she meant, but then it registered. Upon her delicate neck was an obscenely ornate and grandiose onyx necklace. Matching earrings chimed insultingly from her tender earlobes.

Maggie glanced back at Hook, a wide smile plastered to her face. He was furious. _Awesome._

"You know what the best part of being 'Hook's Woman' is?" She asked, not intending to give him time to answer, "Well,_ everybody _knows, for one." Hook's handlebar stache twitched. "-and they are all SO nice to me! Especially the **jeweler**!" She stopped and let the fuming fiend digest for a second before continuing on, "He was the one that insisted I take the matching earrings!" She poked the dangling gem, sending it swaying. "I told him you trusted...no..._expected_ him to make me the most glamorously decorated woman in Pirate Town. I told him you explicitly requested the very best for your finest girl, and for me, there was _no price tag_." With that, Maggie made a slicing gesture across her neck to imply that Hook's false threats had been delivered to the frightened accessory salesman. "Luckily, news travels really fast around here and your little display at the pub worked flawlessly, just like you said! I'm borderline famous now- it's super _NEAT_!" Satisfied with her work, Maggie leaned back into the inside of Hook's arm, looking up at him with a content and pompous look on her face.

Hook snickered, almost proudly, "Maggie, Maggie, Maggie." He laughed again, through his nose with a quick breath and shook his head. "After such a brazen accomplishment, how can I even be upset? I'd clap if I could." At that, Maggie grabbed his free hand and slapped her palm against it, making an obnoxious applause on her own. Hook didn't fight it, he just raised a brow at her, continuing to look calmly illustrious.

With his anger looking to be at bay, Maggie continued to relax and pester him.

"Mind if I get comfy? Show's about to start!" She wanted to bask in her victory just a moment longer. Really rub it in.

"Please..." Hook lifted the arm that was pinned behind her as she shifted. He cautiously awaited for what he knew would be her next obnoxious move. It didn't take long- mere seconds later Maggie had spun herself to the side, lifting both legs in a mermaid style, and anything but gently, threw them over Hook's empty lap.

No matter how hard he tried, Hook could never guess what Maggie was going to do next. It was a constant show of shock and astonishment. She was something else entirely. This strange act only solidified her otherworldly track record.

Maggie straightened herself up and rested her underarm on his shoulder, her head followed suit. Now reclined against the jarred pirate, she sat contently. They both looked on as the duels began down below, all the eyes in the stadium glued to dirt covered show floor.

"So, no death, did I hear that right?" Maggie began to converse, her voice still sounding a tad impish.

"I'm afraid that's true." Hook answered.

"Booooo." Maggie mused. It was then that she noticed Hook's hand had landed on her ankle. His thumb moved intermittently, stroking her gently. Her heart lurched in her chest, her head becoming light. She failed to comment on this and went on, "Way to take all the fun out of it!" She had nothing but the newly acquired accessories for him to attempt to retrieve, but there was a good possibility he wouldn't believe that and still check her for a pouch of stolen goods like last time. She ignored it for now.

"Indeed, truly a disappointment, but trying times are upon us. We can't afford to be losing able bodied individuals. I'm sure you understand that." His hand was under the hem of her dress now, caressing her calf. She still didn't budge or show any sign of noticing. She was frozen. Only her auto pilot dialogue skated her along.

"Yea, well, you're going to need every last one of them." She mused.

"Certainly. The games have only just begun...haven't they?" Hook's voice was much lower and quieter, as he traversed the tops of her thighs.

Maggie continued to hold off on commenting, but felt goosebumps tear across her arms and legs. She cleared her throat as quietly as possible, "You bet your ass." She half whispered, her concentration struggling to control her poker face and keep track of the wandering palm beneath her clothes at the same time. Hook came to rest his hand across her lap, draped and forming a bridge between her thighs. There it sat.

Maggie felt surreal, but still bit, hoping to have the last word. She leaned in close, her free hand landing on his chest and patting it. "Sorry, no treasure this time."

Hook's head turned to meet her, their faces only mere inches apart, "Oh I _beg_ to differ."

He was immediate and without hesitation. Within seconds, several fingers had plunged into her. Ignoring the light barricade of cotton between them, he tunneled, taking the taut fabric in his lightning fast actions with him. Maggie heaved forwards, her voice pitching intimately. Her head met his neck, where she quickly buried it. Her hands fiercely clenched the thick red fabric of his coat. His face was still very near, his cheek lightly grazing her gaping jaw. "_Shhh._.." He held firmly, but with increasing pressure, he pressed upwards. He could feel Maggie tensing up as her hips shifted carelessly upon him. Light breaths swept all around Hook's neck, her voice sweetly escaping with them and becoming quietly muffled by his neckerchief.

The sensation was absolute perfection. Maggie's legs were pliant and with little reluctance separated, giving Hook more desirable space. With that, he instantly hastened his pace, watching as her body began to move with him. Maggie was a cauldron of bubbling outbursts, her voice hoarsely singing out. Raising his arm, Hook placed his metal claw against Maggie's backside, holding her closer.

"Discreet, sweet girl, or everyone will surely hear you." He rumbled in her ear. He found an abundance of amusement in taunting Maggie. She was so easily flustered! He kept on, enjoying her wanton frenzy. Though, he couldn't ignore a very prominent want to hit every note just for her. He never really expected her to take to his daring behavior, but her stunning enthusiasm was undoubtedly appealing.

Cheers in the crowd had been even throughout the duel, but erupted suddenly. Hook spun his head around to survey the scene, and luckily the onlookers were still facing the opposite way, enjoying two torn up brutes shuffle about and hacking away, yelling uncouth nonsense about one another's mothers.

Looking back down at the strange godsend that had delivered itself to him, he proceeded further. Noting the tilt of Maggie's hips, he knew she was very close- and that's when he removed his fingers as quickly as they had firstly entered. Upon exiting, he slid them upwards, grazing her as he went. He circled her there for a short moment, feeling her jolt in his lap, sending his own arousal into a painful cry for attention. More little suppressed wails jumped from her throat.

Hook freed his strained hand entirely, placing it on Maggie's trembling hip, which gently spasmed every few seconds, followed by a very light cry that would scurry out of her mouth each time. His hook lazily pet her backside. He looked on as nothing had just taken place. The girl's rapid and squeaky voice would argue otherwise.

"...you're...a monster." She groaned, reluctantly relaxing in his arms. She whined, head sliding down in defeat as her body pranced on the edge climax.

Reciting wickedly, Hook replied, "Who'll get the upper hand...I wonder?"

* * *

All of the attendees in the dusty stadium were viewing the intended entertainment for the evening and not the consummate elegance Hook had performed just above the blissfully ignorant crowd. That is..._all but one._


End file.
